
J LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

# 

u4 



1 |o wis ,, f c 



^^ x> ^7 



* UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J 






— 



: 


■n > . 




HI 

• 

1 m m ' 




l i 









Dm 









h 






BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS. 



Ireland, Scotland, Italy and Sicily. 



With Illustrations^ 



i 

By ED W A R D W.' D A W SON, 

AUTHOR OF " THE CASTLE OF THE THREE MYSTERIES," A TRANS- 
LATION FROM THE ITALIAN, &C, &C. 



NEW HAVEN: J 

pEORGE H. J}lCHMON(D &{ pO,, 442 pHAPEL ^TREET. 



1873. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 

Edward W. Dawson, 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



0\ 



THE UBlURYl 

|°*cowo* ESSi 



Denisnn, Grenell & Barker, 

PRINTERS, 

New Haven, Conn. 



i 



^ 



TO 

Horace S. Cummings, Esq., 

OF WASHINGTON, D. C, 

WITH WHOM I CROSSED THE ATLANTIC AND ROAMED 

THROUGH MANY LANDS, 

—THE BA CHELOR 

1 OP MY 

WANDERINGS — 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED ISY HIS SINCERE FRIEND 
BENEDICT. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I -THE VOYAGE. 

CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. The Start, 11 

II. Our Outfits, 14 

III. The Leave Takings, - - - - - 18 

IV. The Sea Sickness, 21 
V. The Ship's Officers, - m - - - - 26 

VI. 'Other Voyagers, ----- 31 

VII. The D. D.'s, 37 

VIII. Mother and Daughter, 43 

IX. The Christian Sabbath, - - - - 48 

X. A New Acquaintance, 54 

XI. The Congregation, - - - - 60 

XII. Divine Service, ----- 65 

XIII. Amusements, - - - ■. .- -71 

XIV. The Fancy Ball, 76 

XV. The Cat-astrophe, - - - 80 

XVI. The Storm, - - - 86 

XVII. Land, ho ! - - - - - 92 

PART IL-IBELAND. 

I. Coastwise, - - - - - - 99 

II. In Port, - - - - 106 

III. Adieus, 112 

IV. Incidents, 118 

V. UptheFoyle, - - . - - - 121 

VI. The Walled City, 129 

VII. The Excursion, - - - - - 136 

VIII. Lough Erne, 142 

IX. The Round Tower, . - - - - 149 



4 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER. PAGE. 

X. Strategy, 156 

XI. Man Proposes, ..... 163 

XII. St. Patrick's City, 168 

XIII. Brien the Brave, - - - - - 172 

XIV. The New City, - - - - 178 

XV. Town and Country, - - - - - 185 
XVI. St. Patrick's Home, 191 

XVII. The Irish Wake, - - - - 197 
XVIII. The Castles of Ardglass, - - - 202 

XIX. The Blarney Stone, - - - - - 208 

XX The Antiquary, - - - 216 

XXI. Antiquities, - - - - - - 224 

XXII. The Giant's Causeway, 232 
XXIII. Adieu to Erin, - - - - - 238 

PART HI-SCOTLAND. 

I. Across the Channel, - 243 

II. The Old Boy, ----- 246 

III. Observations - ----- 250 

IV. The Estuary, ----- 254 
V. The Artificial River, - - - - 259 

VI. The Customs, ----- 263 

VII. Other Customs, - - - - - 268 

VIII- Auld Acquaintance, .... 272 

IX. St. Mungo's Town, - - - - - 276 

X. Other Objects, ----- 284 

XL The Monuments, - - - - - 289 

XII. The Way to Ayr, 295 

XIII. The Land of Burns, - - - - 301 

XIV. The Drive, - - - - 309 
XV. The Poet's Grave, - - . - - 315 

XVI. Surprises, - - - 323 
XVIL Among the Isles, - - - - 330 

XVIII. Human and Divine, - - 334 
XIX. The Wedding Party, - - - 340 

XX. In Mine Inn, - - - - 347 

XXI. Not at Home, - - - - - 352 

XXII. The Modern Athens, 358 

XXIII. The Old Town, - ... 363 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER. 

XXIV. At Dalkeith, 
XXV. Farewell to Scotia, 

PART IV -ITALY. 

I. Wind and Water. 

II. During the Delay, 

III. Laid Up, - 

IV. Improvements, - 
V. Indulgences - 

VI. Friends, Old and New. 
VII. Espionage, ... - 

VIII. Nice Days, 
IX. The Corso, 
X. Away from Danger, 
XI. The Old Capital, 
XII. Half the Kingdom, 

XIII. The Other Half, 

XIV. Queen of the Adriatic, 
XV. From the Sea, 

XVI. To the Sea, 

XVII. Leghorn Ladies, 
XVIII. An Adventure, 

XIX. A Dinner Party, 
XX. Another Adventure, 

XXI. Neapolis, 

XXII. Things Seen and Unseen, 

XXIII. Curious Caves, 

XXIV. Among the Ruins, - - - 

PART V.-SICILY. 

I. St. Rosalie's City, 

II. Old Zancle, 

III. The City of Lava, 

IV. Fallen Greatness, - 
V. The Return, 



PAGE. 

371 
• 379 



389 
397 

402 

409 

414 

421 

427 

431 

437 

443 

447 

454 

458 

465 

472 

476 

482 

487 

493 

500 

506 

515 

520 

526 



535 
541 
545 
552 
557 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

STEAMSHIP COLUMBIA, 

LONDONDERRY, .... - - - 128 

GATE OP LONDONDERRY, 130 

TULLY CASTLE, 145 

THE RUINS OP DEVENISH ISLAND, 151 

CITY OP BELFAST, 179 

THE CORONATION CHAIR, 189 

THE BLOODY HAND, - - - - - - 192 

HILL OP TARA, 194 

THE IRISH WAKE, - 198 

KING'S CASTLE, - - - - 205 

ROCK OF CASHEL, 210 

BLARNEY CASTLE, 214 

CARRICKPERGUS, 220 

CARRICKFERGUS CASTLE. ------ 221 

THE HOLESTONE, - - - - ' - - - - 228 

ABBEY OP BONA MARGA, 230 

DUNLUCE CASTLE, - - - 233 

THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY, 235 

DUMBARTON CASTLE, 257 

GLASGOW CATHEDRAL, 280 

GLASGOW NECROPOLIS, - 282 

BIRTH-PLACE OF BURNS, 304 

BUKNS' MONUMENT, 306 

THE FARM OF ELLISLAND, 318 

BURNS' MAUSOLEUM, 320 

CAERLAVEROCK CASTLE, 321 

RUINS OF IONA, 335 

FINGAL'S CAVE, ---..--- 338 

GLENCOE, - - - 341 

LOCH LOMOND, 349 

BOTHWELL CASTLE, 354 

CITY OF EDINBURGH, 359 

THE SCOTT MONUMENT, 360 

OLD TOWN OF EDINBURGH, 364 



8 ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TAGE 

HOUSE OF JOHN KNOX, 366 

FISHWIVES OF NEWHAVEN, ------ 380 

EDINBURGH CASTLE, - 382 

SCOTTISH INSIGNIA OF ROYALTY, 383 

PROFESSOR DI LAVARELLO, - - - - - - 403 

ANCIENT GENOA 419 

VIEW OF THE MEDITERRANEAN, - - - - - 433 

CITY OF MILAN, 448 

CATHEDRAL OF MILAN, 451 

AMPHITHEATRE AT VERONA, - 459 

A CANAL AT VENICE, 466 

VENICE BY MOONLIGHT, 471 

GREAT SQUARE IN PISA, 479 

THE LETTER WRITER, ------- 490 

MONK AND MAID, 491 

OLD GATE OF GENOA, ------- 495 

CIGAR STUMP HUNTER, 498 

BAY OF NAPLES, B. C, - 508 

LOVE MAKING, 510 

THE PICKPOCKETS, 511 

CARD PLAYERS, - - 511 

CAKE PEDLAR, - 512 

WINE MERCHANT, 513 

MACARONI, 514 

ITALIANS PLAYING MORA, 522 

SOLFATERRA, - - 524 

A STREET IN POMPEII, - 528 

AMPHITHEATRE AT POMPEn, 530 

PLAN OF THE EXCAVATIONS OF POMPEII, - - - 531 

CLOISTER AT MONREALE, 539 

STROMBOLI, 542 

PRIEST AND HOUSE-WIFE, 543 

CRATER OF ^ETNA, 546 

MARRIAGE IN SICILY, 550 

MAT PEDLARS, - - .-554 

BASKET MERCHANT, 555 

SPANIARDS, - 560 

GIBRALTAR, - - - 562 

FORTIFIED PASSAGES OF GIBRALTAR, - - - - 564 



PART 1. 








CHAPTER I. 



THE START. 



P&iliTffllE, that is, Bachelor and Benedict, (I, the 

ym® 111 . 

If writer, being Benedict,) moved by an irre- 



^JT^S^V sistable desire to know something personally 
concerning distant countries and their inhabitants, 
determined to gratify, in a measure at least, our laud- 
able curiosity. With this end in view, and not par- 
ticular whither we went, but with a preference for the 
British Isles and the coast countries of the Mediter- 
ranean, we took our departure from the celebrated 
university town of New Haven, at 9:45 A.M., Friday, 
September 23d, 187-. It was nearly four hours later 
when we reached New York, yet with the impatience 
peculiar to the American character, we at once pro- 
ceeded to make arrangements for the voyage. The 
steamship Columbia was to sail on the following day, 
and we decided to secure passage in her, Londonderry 
and Glasgow, to which she was destined, suiting our 
inclination. 



12 benedict's wanderings. 

The next thing, as we conceived, was the conver- 
sion of our checks, drafts and greenbacks into English 
and French gold. Novices in this kind of business, 
with slight knowledge of the mysteries of money as 
daily developed in the narrow street under the shadow 
of old Trinity, we experienced no little difficulty. It 
was here and there, hither and thither, up and down, 
and across, questions and answers and directions, haste 
and hurry, jostle and dodge, rumble and rattle and 
racket, and all ending in the discovery that, at three 
of the clock in the afternoon, financial business in the 
little Lombard of America is at an end. At a later 
hour we returned to our hotel, tired out with fruitless 
exertion, but in no wise discouraged. Although our 
object had not been effected, we had at least found 
out, at the very last moment, however, just when and 
where and how the thing must be accomplished. 

The following morning, not at a very early hour I 
must admit, we awoke refreshed by the favors of 
Morpheus, not Bacchus — mark.ivell the distinction ! 
— and after breakfast repaired to the house of Messrs. 
D. W. L. & Co., where we committed ourselves to the 
care of a friend, who was in more respects than name 
a Darling. Through the magic of his presence, or 
the potency of his will, or a profound knowledge of 
the mysteries of that great monied mart, our paper 
w?ts quickly converted into solid yellow gold, such as 



THE START. 13 

gladdens the eyes of the publicans and sinners of the 
old world. 

" Are you now provided with everything ? " in- 
quired our friend Darling, with seemly solicitude. 

" Well, we hardly know," was the reply. 

" You should be amply prepared for every possible 
emergency," he suggested. 

Bachelor and I exchanged glances, and each in- 
dulged in a smile, at the expense i of the other as he 
supposed. 




CHAPTER II. 



OUR OUTFITS. 






§0R my own part I was satisfied, but I had 
| some misgivings as to the provision of my 
jVp traveling companion. I had been supplied 
with an outfit from home, and of clothing alone there 
was sufficient, it seemed to me, to afford the heathen 
of Africa a red flannel shirt and dress suit throughout. 
Whereas the trosseau of my companion, besides what 
he had on, consisted of little more than an extra paper 
collar and a tooth brush ; and he expected to be absent 
from home a year ! " Slim wardrobe," did some one 
remark? Nay ; wise provision for a year's travel, 
considering that all things were essentially cheaper on 
the other side of the Atlantic, and that Bachelor's 
pocket contained, beside his glittering gold, paper 
goods for hundreds of pounds in London. 

But, you know, (at least, if you are married, you 
know,) that Benedict cannot emulate the wise exam- 
ple of Bachelor. Wife insists that he shall have 



OUR OUTFITS. 15 

trunks, and hat-boxes, and umbrellas, and wraps, and 
a medicine chest ; insists, too, that his trunks shall 
contain clothing (amount above specified), and that 
the chest shall be well stored with simples, such as 
epsom salts, paregoric, camphor, sugar-coated pills, 
lint, plasters, and other things of like character too 
numerous to mention, — and no brandy. 

I thought of all these things and was self-satisfied, 
perhaps with a little reservation as to the article last 
mentioned. But having unlimited faith in our friend 
Darling — wbo, in times past, had gone down in ships 
to the sea, and ought to know, and did know, just 
what we should need — I took from my pocket-book a 
narrow slip of paper, containing, in wife's pinched pen- 
manship, all the articles of my outfit, and handed it 
to him for his inspection. ' 

Darling took the paper and examined it carefully, 
item by item, muttering to himself, ever and anon, as 
his eye went down the list, " Of course ! of course ! " 
He might as well have said, for he meant the same 
thing, and I understood it, l 'Alas, poor Benedict! " 

It was plain without words, that he was better 
pleased with the outfit of my companion, though he 
bestowed upon me, as he returned the list, a look of 
commisseration, as much as to say, " It is his duty- 
he is Benedict." 

" Multum in parvo " — by which he meant much in a 



16 benedict's wanderings. 

little compass — "is the motto of the true traveler," 
said our friend Darling. " But there are certain 
things," he added, with an indescribable expression, 
" which can not be safely omitted by any man, unless 
his stomach be copper-lined and his body iron- 
bound." 

" We are in your hands, to be dealt with as you 
think best," said Bachelor, resignedly. 

I was silent, though a little distrustful ; but ready 
to submit, as becomes a minority. 

With a pencil Darling scrawled on a scrap of paper 
several words which — to me, standing directly, in front 
of him, and seen upside down — looked like Egyptian 
hieroglyphics, and handed the paper to Bachelor. 

" All right," said my companion. 

It is a fundamental principle of my creed, in trav- 
eling as well as in politics, that the majority should 
rule ; so, I submitted quietly without knowing 
whether I approved or disapproved. But a little 
later, when I saw these mysterious hieroglyphics con- 
verted into boxes and bundles, and into shapes resem- 
bling bottles of various sizes and patterns, I ventured 
to remonstrate — mildly as was befitting a minority. 

" All these things are indispensable," said Darling, 
" and most of all the shape ; there are some things 
that must roll when the ship rolls, or they will lose 
their contents. Apropos, the stomach." 



OUR OUTFITS. 17 

Assured, besides, that the contents of these bottle- 
shaped packages, mingled with a little lemon juice 
and sugar, are a perfect panacea for all the ills to 
which human flesh is heir at sea, I refrained from 
further remonstrance and allowed every thing of a 
hieroglyphic character to be stowed handy for use in 
our state-room. 

Our friend Darling — our Darling friend — said he 
would see us safely aboard and fairly started on our 
voyage, for which we were truly grateful, as well in 
heart as speech. He could do no more, and if every 
other would do as much — contribute his mite — how 
immeasurably would it enhance the happiness of 
mankind ! 









CHAPTER III. 



THE LEAVE-TAKINGS. 




^.HERE was nothing unusual in the departure of 
the vessel on this occasion. It occurred when the 



sun was at its meridian height — " high twelve" 
— a golden sun in an unclouded sky, giving promise 
of fair weather for a little time, if not for the voyage. 

Darling was engaged at the moment, recounting 
one of his salt-water experiences for our benefit. As 
a story-teller he was unusually felicitous, and he gave 
himself up to the narration of the anecdote, as if 
there was nothing else to be thought of in the world. 
Yet he was not unmindful of his situation ; and even 
had he been, the vigorous ringing of the steamer's 
great bell would have brought the fact strikingly to 
his remembrance. The ringing was accompanied by 
the stentorian voice of a burly tar, who suggested to 
all persons not desirous of making the voyage, the 
propriety of immediately leaving the ship. 

The leave-takings were as various in their character 



THE LEAVE-TAKINGS. 19 

as the people who were about to separate, for a time 
or forever. Some of the passengers were in cheerful 
spirits, and some were in tears, and some were indif- 
ferent, though of the last there was not a great num- 
ber. Here and there was one alone, or a couple by 
themselves, who had no friend present to bid them 
good-bye — God be with you ! 

The last stroke of the bell having sounded, the 
voice of the tar became silent, and the sailors arranged 
themselves at the plank and hawsers, to wait the 
word of command. A rush to the shore ensuing, 
many were jostled in their hurry, and one or two nar- 
rowly escaped a headlong plunge into the water. 
Darling lingered to the last, and bade us an affection- 
ate farewell, with good wishes for a prosperous passage 
and a safe return to our friends and homes. 

As he went down from the vessel, I repeated the 
old adage, "A friend in need is a friend indeed." 

" Yes," added Bachelor, " and a better than he 
there is not in the wide, wide world." 

" I wish he could bear us company," I remarked. 

u I have wished it a hundred times," he replied. 

The gang-plank was drawn aboard, the hawsers 
loosened, the steam let on, and the great ship, slowly 
and silently, but majestically, moved away toward the 
mighty main. The friends of those on board lingered 
at the wharf, reluctant to leave so long as the vessel 



20 benedict's wanderings. 

remained in sight. Some, while yet in speaking dis- 
tance, repeated their well-wishes, and others their 
most important messages ; and when their voices 
failed, waved their hats and handkerchiefs as long as 
they could be seen from the vessel. 

Near the edge of the pier, a little apart, that he 
might be distinctly seen and easily distinguished, our 
faithful friend cheered us on our "winding way," 
with signs as sweet to the sight as were his words on 
board to the ear at separation. Indeed, he was a 
Darling ! God bless him ! 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE SEA-SICKNESS. 



^jijOWN the harbor, into the bay, through the 
IJ Narrows, past Sandy Hook, and out upon the 
^Si£> broad Atlantic, the gallant old ship " walked 
the waters like a thing of life." Meanwhile, there 
was manifest among the passengers an exuberance of 
spirits such as I have seldom witnessed. But when 
they began to feel the swell of the sea, they gradually 
lost their interest in objects on the fast receding 
shore, and before the land had entirely faded from our 
vision, became absorbed in the welfare of their stom- 
achs. Of those who an hour before were wholly 
unmindful of such a receptacle, many were now pain- 
fully conscious of its existence ; and of those who had 
adopted every known precaution, a major portion 
hung languidly over the sides of the ship, giving up 
to the unsatisfied sea the little they had taken in to 
break the fast of the previous night. 

It was a scene of general discomfort, and even those 
who still hold their own against the rolling sea, 



22 benedict's WANDEKINGS. 

though they escaped the suffering, shared in the so- 
licitude. I was of the latter, and for once in my life 
rejoiced that I was of the minority, even though so 
small it could be counted on the fingers of one hand. 
Of course I was thankful that I had not a squeamish 
stomach, and still more thankful that I had escaped 
the sickness of the sea. 

To tell the whole truth — which is my habit ; I 
never like to keep any thing back — I was not only 
thankful, but actually proud of the power I possessed 
over the safety-valves of my stomach. All my friends 
at home had predicted, that I, whoever else might 
escape, would become sick the moment the ship 
touched the billows. 

I have not said, as I should have done at the outset t 
that I was an invalid traveling for the benefit of my 
impaired health. My physician thought a sea voyage 
would do more toward my restoration than his most 
potent potions, and I was not loth to make the change, 
even at the risk of sea-sickness. 

It was thought — by my friends, not my physician — 
that I, in my convalescent condition, would be spe- 
cially susceptible. But how little we know of some 
things ! how incapable of truthful conjecture ! It was 
to that very circumstance I was indebted for my tri- 
umph. And now I am prepared to conscienciously 
recommend all persons going to sea, to resort the day 



THE SEA-SICKNESS. 23 

before to ipecac or lobelia, and have done with sea- § 
sickness before they venture on the ocean. 

At this particular juncture, the person to me of 
first importance, and in whose welfare I felt the live- 
liest interest, was my state-room companion — Bach- 
elor. We had known each other for a long while — I 
know not how long, years and years — and we liked 
each other as much perhaps as men ever do, David 
and Jonathan excepted. 

Here a word by way of digression and commentary. 
Is not the assertion that the love of these two young 
Israelites exceeded the love of women, an eliptical 
phrase, which should be completed by the words, — 
for each other ? 

Bachelor was a gay good follow ; in youthful circles 
of his own sex, he was sometimes jolly ; all unmarried 
men are apt to be — an argument in favor of celibacy. 
Not my argument, however, for being a Benedict, it 
is my duty, whatever may be my inclination or expe- 
rience, to zealously maintain the morality of matri- 
mony, and — being neither Turk nor Mormon, but a 
Christian — the monotony of monogomy. 

Yet there are times — in the interests of truth I am 
compelled to say it — when a Bachelor is better than a 
Benedict ; at sea, for instance, when one is without a 
companion. And here let me insert a bit of advice 
for my relatives, the Benedicts, founded upon expe- 



24 benedict's wanderings. 

rience, that dear school in which Franklin says fools 
are educated. If any one of them shall ever follow 
my example and go abroad without his wife, let 
him select — whatever else he may do or not do — a 
Bachelor for his companion at sea. 

It is something, at any time, to have a compatriot 
who is a gay good fellow, capable of becoming jolly on 
occasion ; at sea, it is of the utmost importance. If 
he have other good qualities, so much the better ; 
mine had, and I liked him for them as well as for his 
exhaustless humor and merriment. 

My Bachelor was decidedly clever in conversation, 
and what is even a rarer phenomenon, a good listener. 
Withal, he was a philosopher, not profound perhaps, 
but peculiarly practical. These things I must say in 
his behalf, even though he deserted me, on more than 
one occasion, for a flaunting bit of calico. 

It is not, however, because I object to his preference 
that I allude to the fact ; at his age, I should prob- 
ably have done the same thing ; perhaps I should, as 
it was, if I had been a Bachelor. 1 refer to the fact 
here, as I shall be obliged to mention it hereafter, 
when I come to recount some of his adventures and 
my own miss-adventures. 

While I performed a few kind offices for my suffer- 
ing fellow-passengers, Bachelor quietly withdrew 
unnoticed. I missed him presently, and feared that 



THE SEA-SICKNESS. 25 

he too had fallen a victim to nausea. But after a 
search in other parts of the vessel, I found him in a 
cosy seat behind the wheel-house, — had that seat a 
tongue, what a tale it might unfold ! — surreptitiously 
smoking a pressed Cubanio. 

" Sick, Bach ?" I enquired, before observing the 
smoke. 

"No," he replied, blowing his cloud away to win- 
ward, " but I'm as hungry as a wolf." 

At that moment a tinkling sound reached our ears 
from the distance — ting-a-ling ! ting-a-ling ! ting-a- 
ling ! 

" Good !" he exclaimed, springing to his feet and 
casting overboard the half-consumed cigar. Then 
slipping his arm through mine, he repeated, as we 
walked away, a line from the Bells of Poe : 

" What a world of merriment their melody foretells." 



CHAPTER V. 



THE SHIP'S OFFICERS. 




|)T first, on going aboard the ship, I felt as 
though I had entered a preliminary gather- 
ing at a council of war or grand review. Offi- 
cers, in showy uniforms, were to be seen in every part 
of the vessel, moving about, not with the " pomp and 
circumstance of war" it is true, but obviously con- 
scious of their authority and importance. For a time 
I did not venture to address any of them by a title 
less than Captain, lest I should underrate his rank 
and give offence. But T very soon made myself 
" master of the situation," by careful observation and 
a . few timely inquiries, and after that was not 
troubled by any embarrassment. 

I went to lunch with Bachelor. I have the undis- 
puted authority of my alma mater for the assertion, 
that I was always prompt at meal time, and 
never deficient in appetite. On this occasion, being 
among strangers, I did what was in my power to sus- 



the ship's officers. 27 

tain my early reputation. Indeed, I have reason to 
believe that the officers, four of whom were at the 
table, were unanimous in the opinion that I followed 
strictly that excellent precept of Paul — " Eat what- 
ever is set before you, asking no questions for con- 
science' sake." The purser, of whom I shall say more 
hereafter, regarded me with admiration ; and Donald 
Dinnie — the champion athlete of Scotland, a passen- 
ger who occupied a seat opposite me — looked on with 
amazement and apprehension. 

Be it remembered, however — I say this in my own 
vindication, lest there be those who do not fully appre- 
ciate that a good appetite is among the greatest bless- 
ings in this life — I was in that peculiar state of con- 
valescence, when the chief desire is to restore, in the 
shortest possible time, the woeful waste of protracted 
sickness. 

The lunch was agreeable, not merely because it 
afforded an opportunity to appease my convalescent 
hunger, but especially as it enabled me to scrutinize 
more closely some of the ship's officers. 

The captain sat at the head of one table, and at 
the opposite end the first or executive officer. At the 
head of the other table was the doctor, or, more 
strictly speaking, the surgeon of the ship, and at the 
foot of this table was the purser. 

Passing by my first impressions, I found the cap- 



28 benedict's wanderings. 

tain, on better acquaintance, a most excellent gentle- 
man, courteous and considerate in his deportment, 
mild but firm in the exercise of his authority. Withal, 
he was a man of piety, a strict observer of the moral 
law, and a stickler for social proj^riety. At the table 
he invoked a blessing on the good things "spread out 
before us," with commendable earnestness, though I 
must confess, at the expense sometimes of my pa- 
tience. On board the ship he tolerated no profan- 
ity, and in this he had my unqualified approbation ; 

for, 

" Of all the noxious, complicated crimes, 
That both infest and stigmatize the times, 
There's none that can with impious oaths compare, 
Where vice and folly have an equal share." 

One of his friends, with whom I became acquainted 
afterwards, remarked to me facetiously, "His name is 
Small, but that is the only thing about him that is 
not colossal ; his heart, like the Irishman's, is as big 
as a teakettle." 

The liveliest man at the table was the doctor. His 
presence was sunshine, even in the chamber of sick- 
ness. He was the life of the vessel, and of the 
voyage. It was said — in whispers, of course — that he 
was betrothed to the captain's daughter, Miss Debbie 
Small, of whom I shall have something to say before 
we reach Ireland. Whether or not engaged, he was 
most unquestionably enamored. 



the ship's officers. 29 

The man of finance, an important officer on a pas- 
senger ship, was a noticeable character. Having 
nothing to do after the departure of the vessel, he 
devoted himself to the worship, alternately, of Epicu- 
rus and Morpheus. From berth to board and from 
board to berth, his movement, like the flight of the 
bee, was on the shortest line between the two impor- 
tant points. But if by any happy chance he could 
be diverted from his course on the way to berth, — on 
the way to board it was impossible, — he invariably 
became the life of the social circle. Having the 
tongue of Hermes and the toes of Terpsichore, his 
worship was ever acceptable at the shrine of female 
divinity. 

When I saw him first, I mistook him for the cap- 
tain, judging by his rotundity. To make certain, I 
asked the second officer. 

" The purser," he replied, laconically. Then added, 
with a twinkle in his eye, " Don't sit near him at the 
table, he is the fearfullest feeder in the universe." 

It occurred to me that the executive officer was 
exceedingly well-fitted for his position. He was 
short, and strong, and stern, and — I had almost said 
— savage. There were those on board who would 
have said it, and without hesitation. The only occa- 
sion during the voyage, at least the only one that 
came to my knowledge, upon which he manifested 



30 benedict's wanderings. 

anything like a cruel disposition, was in the exercise 
of discipline, as an example and punishment. 

It happened a few days later, "in the course of 
human events" on board the ship, and will be noticed 
in its proper place. The incident by which it was 
provoked — a burnt offering to the Deity of Mischief, 
by a reckless young blue-jacket — richly merited some 
sort of punishment. But the chastisement inflicted, 
owing to its severity, produced a sympathy for the 
perpetrator of the deed, and a corresponding prejudice 
against the officer by whom it was imposed. 




CHAPTER VII. 



OTHER VOYAGERS. 




^8 



HE sea-sickness had affected so many of the 
passengers, that only a few of them were able 
to be present at the lunch table. These, as it 
happened, however, were among the persons with 
whom I afterwards b ecame acquainted, and some of 
whom I now regard as of my best friends over the 
wide water. Of course it was not while we sat at the 
table that I discovered their good qualities, though 
even then I had formed a favorable estimation of 
their characters. Whether or not we profess to be- 
lieve in physiognomy, we are all more or less influ- 
enced in the opinion we form of an individual, by the 
external signs of the countenance. 

All the ladies of the saloon occupied seats at the 
table over which the captain presided. At his right 
hand sat his wife and daughter, who had been on a 
voyage to America, and at his left two English ladies, 
one the wife of the governor of New Zealand, and the 



32 benedict's wanderings. 

other her social and traveling companion. Next to 
Miss Small sat the Count and Countess di Lavarello, 
of the Italian nobility, and opposite them John Mar- 
shall and wife, of the English middle classes. Beside 
these, there were but two other persons at the table, a 
clerical gentleman, the Rev. Dr. Theopholis G-abler 
(accent on the Gra), who sat a little further down, 
leaving room for his wife and daughter when they 
had recovered from their sea-sickness ; and nearly 
opposite him an elderly Irish lady, Mrs. Barrington, 
who resided in Belfast, and belonged to one of the 
numerous Presbyterian churches of that prosperous 
commercial city. 

Acting upon the advice of the second officer, not to 
sit near the purser, I waited until that individual had 
seated himself at the foot of the table ; then following 
my inclination, for I had already discovered that the 
surgeon was the cheeriest man among the officers, I 
established myself in his immediate vicinity. Di- 
rectly opposite to me sat Donald Dinnie, who, for the 
same reasons, had exercised a like precaution. He, 
too, had received a hint from the second officer, who, 
as I found out afterwards, was a "cannie Scotchman," 
and a fast friend of his famous countryman. 

It was unfortunate for both of us, as it came to 
pass afterwards ; for Dinnie, — excepting myself, out of 
respect for present company, — was the greatest de- 



OTHER VOYAGERS. 33 

vourer of "the good things of this life," (after the 
purser, of course,) that ever occupied a seat at the 
table of the Columbia. Following the first two meals, 
(lunch and binner,) in both of which I came off vic- 
torious, — I have already said that Dinnie looked on at 
the former with amazement and apprehension, — there 
was a tri-daily strife between us, of a most extraor- 
dinary character. 

Physically we were almost the antipodes of each 
other ; he had barely escaped being a giant, while I 
was a man of medium size, reduced by sickness to a 
skeleton, and when compared with him little more 
than a pigmy. But my herculean competitor, 
though he looked down at my baggy breeches with 
something like contempt, very soon discovered that a 
man who has bones to clothe with flesh and an appe- 
tite to assist him, is not to be despised at the table, 
at least for lack of capacity. 

At our table, below Dinnie on one side and Bach- 
elor (who sat next to me) on the other, were four or 
five gentlemen of ordinary presence, who proved upon 
acquaintance to be but ordinary personages. There 
was yet another, who occupied a seat near the foot of 
the table, a mere youth in appearance, very pale and 
attenuated, with a clear cut visage of the Grecian 
type, and bright black eyes that flashed with intelli- 
gence. I think my attention was mure particularly 



34 Benedict's wanderings. 

drawn to him on account of his proximity to the 
purser ; I could not but pity any one who was obliged 
to sit throughout the voyage, at the elbow of that 
great gormandizer. 

By the time dinner was ready, many of the other 
passengers had partially recovered from their sickness, 
and the number of persons at table was greatly aug- 
mented, every one not too sick having come forth to 
replenish. Of the increase at our table there was not 
one deserving of particular mention ; they were all 
prudent people, and with one or two exceptions, 
Scotchmen. At the other table, however, there were 
four or five upon whom I must here bestow a passing 
notice, though I shall have occasion hereafter to men- 
tion two or three of them under other and very dif- 
ferent circumstances. 

By the side of Dr. Gabler, a tall, spare gentleman, 
sat Mrs. Gabler, a tall, spare lady, and Miss G-abler, 
a tall, spare girl, whose name was Arabella. I was 
sorry that at least one of them was not short, plump 
and musculous ; the mother, for instance, — " fat, fair 
and forty ;" it would have been such a relief to the 
monotony. And then, (but this I say by way of pa- 
renthesis, that it may not reach the ears of my wife ; 
in matters of this kind I am consciencious, like all 
true Benedicts), it would have enabled me to catch 
an occasional glimpse of the roseate countenance of as 



OTHER VOYAGERS. 35 

pretty a little widow as ever passed from black to 
purple, from sorrow to smiles, from sadness to side- 
long scintillations. 

Next to the woman in weeds, by the side of a "fine 
ould Irish gintleman," sat the niece of another "fine 
ould Irish gintleman," who resided in Londonderry — 
a fair-haired girl, or as he called her, a " Colleen 
bawn," — a blonde of the Irish type, and in both face 
and form a beauty. She was a young lady of very 
prepossessing appearance, and a most charming person 
upon acquaintance. Her education, excellent in 
other respects, included music, vocal and instrumen- 
tal, and a fair knowledge of three or four modern 
languages, of which she spoke French with the great- 
est fluency. Having lost her parents in America, 
she was returning to Ireland, in the care of the old 
gentleman at her side, to reside with her uncle and 
become his adopted daughter. 

The " fine ould Irish gintleman" at the table — of 
the other I shall have something to say when we 
reach Ireland — was a man r of sixty summers, of a 
rather portly person, a genial countenance, a jovial 
disposition, and a wonderful capacity of imbibition. 
Our acquaintance came about in rather a novel man- 
ner, but through the same means soon ripened into 
friendship. I was making my daily morning observa- 
tions of the sun, through the obscuration of a Bourbon 



36 benedict's wanderings. 

bottle, when he came suddenly upon me, and — paused. 
There never was a finer morning to observe the great 
center of our solar system, and I asked Mr. O'Neil, 
for that was his name, if he would like to look 
through the instrument. Not having enjoyed a tel- 
escopic view of the sun since he came to sea, he was 
delighted with the opportunity ; and this I will say 
in his praise, that I never met an astronomer who 
could look longer and steadier at the great luminary 
without winking. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE D. D.'S. 

^lj]T is not because of any special admiration for 
-^£1 i D — D — , the Scotchman, or D. D., the cler- 
' ^ 8T man 5 that I have honored them with the 
first appearance before the reader, even to the exclu- 
sion of the ladies, some of whom I admired for their 
beauty, esteemed for their wit and worth, and still 
remember for their kindness and condescension. The 
Scotchman occupied a seat immediately in front of 
mine, and being covered with a great variety of med- 
als, bestowed by numerous associations for his excel- 
lence in physical achievements, first arrested my 
attention. Indeed, while the lunch lasted, I was 
obliged to keep him in my eye, — figuratively, of 
course, — in order that he might not gobble up every 
good thing within his enormous reach. 

Perhaps I may be excused on another ground. 
Dinnie was the great man of the voyage — great in 
more respects than appetite. He was great in size 
and stature, being six feet and six in his stockings, 



38 BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS. 

and in weight three hundred and twenty-five pounds ; 
great in public notoriety, having achieved a thousand 
triumphs and received a thousand testimonials ; and 
great — in his own estimation. When tricked out in 
his showy toggery, and covered with his many medals, 
bearing curious devices, he regarded himself as enti- 
tled to universal precedance. He prided himself 
upon his gallantries, looked upon every woman as his 
natural prey, and whenever opportunity offered, 
made love, after his own fashion, to anything clad in 
a petticoat. He strutted about the saloon and deck 
of the ship, with an air of confidence that implied — 

"I am monarch of all I survey, 
My right there is none to dispute." 

Yet there was one on board who felt that it was 
his duty to dispute some of the rights he endeavored 
to arrogate to himself, and some of the privileges 
which he ventured to exercise — the Rev. Dr. Ga- 
bler. This gentleman was outspoken and severe in 
the censures he pronounced, whenever occasion re- 
quired, upon Dinnie and his doings. He was a New 
England clergyman, who had been trained after the 
"most straitest sext" of the Pharisee (the Puritan), 
and looked upon a man who went about the world 
contending for public prizes, as little better than an 
ambulatory agent of the Devil, 



THE D. D.'g. 39 

On the other hand, Dinnie was down on the di- 
vine, whom he spoke of ironically as " The holy man/' 
" The man of God," and "The Lord's annointed," and 
sometimes, when satirically disposed, as " The white 
neck-cloth !" He always addressed him with mock 
deference, using the form " Your Reverence," and 
pronounced his name, in his broad Scotch accent, 
" Dr. The-awfulest Gobbler !" 

The enmity of these men came about in this wise. 
There was among the passengers of the second cabin, 
a girl of Inverness, Mary McGill, who was on her way 
back, as she said, to the home of her childhood. She 
was perhaps two or three and twenty years of age, 
though she was four or five years younger in appear- 
ance. Her complexion was fair, with mottled tints of 
pink and white ; her eyes, of a hazel hue, were large 
and lustrous, and singularly attractive ; and her hair, 
in long luxuriant light-brown curls, hung down in 
rich profusion upon her snowy neck and shoulders. 
The passengers called her " the ship's beauty." 

The vessel was hardly clear of her moorings, when 
the quick eye of Dinnie descried the damsel. "A 
bonnie lassie !" he exclaimed. In the next minute he 
was by her side, asking to be allowed the honor as a 
countryman, to point out to her the beauties of the 
bay. The name and fame of the renowned athlete 
were not unknown to her, though it was the first 



40 benedict's wanderings. 

time she had looked upon his comely countenance and 
portly person. With an inquiring glance at a mid- 
dle-aged woman, who was also a native of Inverness, 
and an early friend of her mother, she accepted his 
proffered services. 

As the ship moved down the bay, the different ob- 
jects of interest were pointed out by Dinnie — first the 
adjacent cities, Brooklyn, New Brighton, Jersey and 
Hudson ; then the islands, Governor's and Bedloe's, 
and Ellis', where the pirates were executed ; after- 
wards Fort Hamilton with her immense guns, and the 
ruins of Fort La Fayette, in which political prisoners 
were confined during the Rebellion ; and the Nar- 
rows, Sandy Hook, and the light-house — and Mary 
and her mother's friend listened with attention. But 
soon after they had passed the point last mentioned, 
the friend was taken sick and went below, leaving 
Mary with the giant, who forthwith began to fill her 
ears with all sorts of fulsome flatteries. 

It was at that moment the Rev. Dr. Gabler passed 
near where they were standing. Something said by 
Dinnie reached his ear, and he listened to the words 
that followed. Then turning suddenly he addressed 
the young woman — " Mary McGrill ?" 

On hearing her name pronounced by a stranger, the 
girl started, and the faint crimson which the words of 
Dinnie had brought to her cheeks, was greatly height- 



THE D. D.'s. 41 

ened by the consciousness that they had been over- 
heard. 

Said the clergyman, with emphasis on the first 
clause, " The woman in whose care you are traveling, 
is very sick below, and requires your immediate at- 
tention." 

The young woman thanked him, and hurried away, 
glad of the opportunity to conceal her blushes, if not 
to escape the fearful fascinations of her crafty coun- 
tryman. 

Dinnie had marked the emphasis, and compre- 
hended its significance. He was greatly enraged, and 
characterized the interference of the clergyman as a 
piece of " damned impertinence." 

In turn, the divine denounced him on the spot, as 
a man full of guile and iniquity, unfit for the society 
of decent people, and deserving of ignominious pun- 
ishment. 

From this time forward, throughout the voyage, 
these men kept up a constant warfare. Each endeav- 
ored to thwart whatever the other sought to accom- 
plish ; though I think the Scot, if the Yankee had 
left him to his own devices, would gladly have given 
up the contest. Indeed, he could well afford to, for 
in all their conversations, which during the first three 
or four days were quite frequent, he could not escape 
the conclusion that, whatever might be the value of 



42 benedict's wanderings. 

muscle in other respects, it was of little use in a war 
of words, where one of the disputants was a man of ed- 
ucation, trained in the subtleties of satire and sarcasm. 

There were times when the conversation of these 
two contributed to the amusement of the passengers, 
and even helped to shorten the tedium of the voyage ; 
but there were others when amusement gave place to 
apprehension — when Dinnie lost his temper and 
threatened to throw the clergyman overboard. 

But the reverened gentleman, however he may have 
regarded these threats, was not in the least deterred 
from what he conceived to be his duty. He denounced 
what he called " the deviltries of Dinnie" in most un- 
measured terms, and threatened to expose him in the 
prints as soon as they reached Scotland. Whether he 
ever carried his threat into execution I am unable to 
say, as after we parted at Londonderry I saw him no 
more in my wanderings. 



*m^ 






MS««- C 



CHAPTER VIII. 



MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 




1HILE we sat at the dinner table, I made a 
few mental notes, to be used afterwards as 
occasion required. I have seen "many men 
of many 'minds," under many circumstances, and am 
a judge of human nature perhaps above the average. 
Forming my plans from the little I saw of these 
people at the table, I set about making their ac- 
quaintance as soon as the meal was finished. With 
a few letters of introduction, addressed to notable per- 
sons on the other side of the ocean, I went directly to 
Captain Small, who glanced at their contents, and 
afterwards looked at photographs of my wife and 
children. As I had hoped, these secured me an in- 
troduction to his wife and daughter, and opened the 
way to an acquaintance with all the saloon passengers. 
At the time, and indeed ever since, I have regarded 
it as a bit of rare good fortune, that I crossed the 
Atlantic with Mrs. Small, on her return from Amer- 
ica. In our country, a hearty welcome had been 



44 benedict's wanderings. 

extended to her by the acquaintances of her husband, 
and during her visit to some of our principal cities, 
every needed attention had been graciously bestowed, 
and every possible want cheerfully anticipated. She 
was returning to her home in Glasgow, thoroughly 
satisfied with her travels in the United States, and 
with a much better opinion of my countrymen than 
she had ever before entertained. 

It was to this fact that I was indebted for much of 
the enjoyment I experienced on the voyage. Mrs. 
Small was naturally of a benignant disposition, but 
the kindness and attention she had so recently re- 
ceived, inclined her, for the time being at least, to the 
exercise of a little partiality toward Americans. I 
availed myself of the first opportunity to introduce 
Bachelor as my friend and companion, and we not 
only received a good share of her favor during our 
" life on the ocean wave," but afterwards when we 
visited Glasgow. 

It is proper to say, however, that a portion of our 
enjoyment was due to the daughter, a young lady of 
about eighteen summers, a perfect blonde, and of 
course beautiful. She was tall and graceful, two 
things that Bachelor admires in a lady, or did at that 
particular time. In conversation she was pleasing 
and attractive, and though not a blue-stocking, intel- 
ligent on all ordinary topics. It was at the piano, 



MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 45 

however, where she appeared to the best advantage ; 

and if some 

"Music bath charms to soothe a savage, 
To rend a rock and split a cabage," 

hers had the power of enchantment over all within 
the sound of her touch and trill, and over the hitherto 
callous heart of poor Bachelor. 

It was in the evening, after supper, that our ac- 
quaintance commenced. The young lady was sitting 
at the piana, when we entered the saloon and were 
introduced. I observed that Bachelor was particu- 
larly struck by her appearance ; but as that was quite 
a common occurrence with him, I attached no im- 
portance to it at the moment. Afterwards, however, 
when she had sung and played for us, I changed my 
opinion ; by that time it was plain to the most cas- 
ual observer, that the favorable first impression had 
deepened into undisguised admiration. 

Of course I then had my misgivings. When an 
acquaintance so short, assumes an aspect so serious, 
it is noticeable, to say the least, in the case of a light, 
loquacious bachelor. A little curious to see how far 
the fellow would venture, — not with the girl, but 
his own heart, — I engaged the mother in conver- 
sation about her travels in America. She was a good 
talker, and enjoyed the opportunity ; and for half an 
hour or more, entertained me with a pleasant account 



46 benedict's wanderings. 

of her observations, impressions and reflections. 
Meanwhile, though listening with attention, I man- 
aged to catch an occasional glimpse of the couple at 
the piano. The singing had subsided into silence, 
and the playing, soft as the ripple of a rivulet, was 
just sufficient to conceal the color of their colloquy 
under a murmer of music. And each time as I looked, 
the distance between them had perceptibly dimin- 
ished, until finally, and just as the narrative was 
completed — but I forbear. 

It was an unfortunate moment to close a conver- 
sation, and to prevent a pause, I begged the narrator 
to continue. But having said all she intended to on 
that occasion, or, as I suspected after wards s having 
observed the little by-play at the piano, she declined. 
The spell was broken ! the illusion dissipated ! 

Presto, change ! There was a burst of music, the 
invisible fingers of the young lady running up and 
down the scale like a flash of lightning ; and at the 
end of the piano, endeavoring to read the notes of 
Norma, with the page unwittingly upside down, stood 
the apparently unconscious Bachelor. 

Having thanked the ladies for their delightful en- 
tertainment, I ran up to the deck to enjoy a turn in 
the open air before turning in for the night. My 
companion followed, but slowly, and with a heavy 
step ; and he was reticent — a bad sign. 



MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 47 

" Bach," said I, after waiting a reasonable time, 
"what's the matter ?" 

" She's a devilish fine girl !" he exclaimed. 

" I thought her discreet, rather than devilish," I 
returned, playfully. 

" Fie ! don't be critical." 

Meanwhile we walked up and down the quarter 
deck arm in arm. After the last remark there was a 
brief silence. It lasted for some minutes, and then 
he resumed. 

" Ben," said he, "I want your advice about a mat- 
ter of importance. I was about to ask it to-night, 
but you are tired. To-morrow will suffice." 

Indeed, I was very tired. The efforts of the day 
had proved too much for me in my convalescent con- 
dition. Having assured him of my readiness to serve 
him in the respect desired, I bade him good night and 
went to my room, leaving him to enjoy the soft sea 
breezes and the stars, and follow at his leisure. 
Throwing myself on the bed, I began to think of the 
the past and speculate of the future, at first with 
some degree of order, but soon fell into reverie, and 
then passed away unconsciously into the shadowy re- 
gion of dreams. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 

[IT was a deep sleep into which I had fallen. 
Not a strange sound on the vessel penetrated 
£g*%| ray ear, not an unusual motion disturbed my 
rest. I knew not when my room-mate came to his 
bed, or when he arose in the morning. Even the 
breakfast bell (the only time in my life that I re- 
member) failed to arouse me. How much longer I 
might have slept, or whether I should have awakened 
ever, had not Bachelor come to my relief, I can not 
conjecture. When I returned to consciousness, he 
was shaking me by the shoulders and screaming in my 
ears — " Ben, are you going to sleep all day ?" 

After breakfast I went up to the quarter deck to 
note our progress. Round about me was a weary 
waste of water and a distant horizon, and nothing 
else in view, though I strained my eyes in every di- 
rection. To avoid a dreary sensation which began 
to creep over me, I went in search of Bachelor, whom 



THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 49 

I was to find somewhere near the wheel-house. But 
I had not proceeded half a dozen paces, when Dr. 
Gabler greeted me with a " Good morning," and ex- 
tended his hand. By some means, I know not how, 
he had ascertained my name, as he had that of nearly 
every other saloon passenger and many of the second 
cabin. Though a stranger to me, I clasped his hand 
and returned his salutation. 

" It is the Lord's day — a most beautiful day," be- 
gan the reverend gentleman. "At home, on such a 
day as this, we should all go to church, and praise 
His great name, and thank Him for His great good- 
ness. Is there any reason why we should not worship 
Him on board a ship in the midst of the ocean ?" 

Innocently I replied, " Indeed, sir, I do not know. 
I am not acquainted with the rules of the vessel. 
You had better inquire of the captain/' 

" I am a minister of the Lord," he continued. 
" The injunction, ' Go ye into all the world and 
preach the Gospel to every creature,' laid upon me at 
my ordination, I dare not disobey. I wish to preach 
to these people ; is there any objection ?" 

"I have already informed you," said I, "that I 
am ignorant of the customs of the ship. Any of the 
officers can give you the information desired." 

" The officers of this vessel are gentlemen — the 
captain a Christian gentleman," he continued. 



50 benedict's wanderings. 

"They are willing that I should preach. I have 
seen your friend Bachelor, and he approves. The 
other passengers approve, except that blasphemous 
Scotchman," pointing to Donald Dinnie. "And 
now, sir, have you any objection ?" 

Here was a poser. At home I was not a very regu- 
lar attendant upon church services ; indeed, when I 
could with any reasonable excuse, I usually remained 
away. The very last Sunday I was at home, I had 
shirked this duty, and imposed it upon my little 
daughter, only six years of age. " Leila," said I, " Pa- 
pa is a little indisposed" (to attend church) " this 
morning, and wishes you to go in his place. Will 
you ?" " Yes, Pa-pa, as you wish it," said the little 
thing, without hesitation. My conscience smote me, 
yet I rejoiced that my daughter, in this respect at 
least, was not like her wayward father. When she 
was ready to start, I called her and said, "Leila, re- 
member what the preacher says, so you can tell me 
when you get home, and remember particularly what 
most interests you." Having in this wise compro- 
mised with my conscience, I stretched myself upon 
a sofa, read a scene or two in The Tempest, and then 
dropped to sleep. When I awoke, my little daugh- 
ter was standing before me. " Well, my dear," said 
I "what did the preacher say ?" She replied frank- 
ly, and without diffidence : " He said the Lord's 



THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 51 

prayer." " Very well," I replied, though I could 
scarcely suppress a smile. " What did he say that 
particularly interested you ?" She hung her head on 
one side, put her finger to her lip, and answered 
a little distrustfully, " He said there wouldn't be 
any meeting this afternoon." 

Somehow I thought of this little incident, when 
the clergyman asked if 7 had any objection to divine 
service on board the ship. After all, the daughter 
was not unlike the father in this very particular, and 
at once I resolved to set her a better example. 

"What objection can I have?" said I. "At 
home I attend church," — I did, as they used to 
say in college, semi-occasionally, — " and why not on 
the ocean ? I assure you, sir, it will afford me pleas- 
ure to hear you expound a passage of the Scriptures." 

The reverend gentleman regarded me with a most 
peculiar expression. He ought to have been de- 
lighted, and yet he appeared to be disappointed. 
Withal, he was confused, and his face flushed to the 
very roots of his hair. But presently he recovered 
his self-possession, and thanked me cordially for my 
acquiescence. 

" The services," he added, as we were about to 
separate, "will be held on the main deck, at ten 
o'clock." 

Having made this announcement, he walked for- 



52 benedict's wanderings. 

ward to superintend the adjustment of seats for the 
ladies, while a group of gentlemen who had witnessed 
our interview, indulged in a titter regardless of my 
presence. Uncertain whether I was the subject of their 
mirth, I turned about unconcernedly and regarded 
them with attention. Immediately one of their num- 
ber advanced, and with a smile said, " Is not your 
friend something of a wag ?" 

At once I suspected that Bachelor had been brew- 
ing a mischief of some sort, and that it pertained to 
the clergyman and myself. What it was, however, 
I could not conjecture. 

" For an hour past," said the gentleman, " the 
parson has been among the passengers, endeavoring 
to ascertain how many would join him in divine 
service. Your friend assented with alacrity, but took 
the reverend gentleman aside, and informed him con- 
fidentially that you were a most ferocious infidel, and 
that unless he could remove your doubts beforehand, 
or induce you to remain in your state-room the 
while, that the services would be disturbed by open, 
defiant contradictions." 

Now I discerned the pitfall that had been pre- 
pared for me, and into which I should surely have 
tumbled headlong, had it not been for the incident of 
my little daughter — God bless her! Having assured the 
group of gentlemen that I was anything in the world 



THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 53 

but an infidel, I related the anecdote which had 
saved me from a clash with the clergyman, greatly to 
their amusement. 

Meanwhile, I glanced up and down the deck in 
search of Bachelor ; but he had concealed himself 
from view, perhaps in some out-of-the-way place 
where he was still watching for the denouement. 
So, for the time being, I dismissed the matter from 
my mind, with the mental reservation, using an ex- 
pression common among practical jokers — " I owe 
you one I" 






CHAPTER X. 



A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 



(^M ; ~S it was only nine o'clock, an hour before the 
^PJ|L time appointed for opening the services, I 
r|5sf^ walked on toward the wheel-house, in search 
of Bachelor. But again my progress was interrupted, 
this time by the pale young man whom I had ob- 
served at the table the day before, near the purser. 
He advanced and extended his hand and called me 
by name just as the clergyman had, and my first im- 
pression was that he was another of the black-cloth 
gentry. At the same time, there was something 
familiar in his appearance, though I could not recol- 
lect that I had ever seen him before ; certainly I had 
never met him, or I should have remembered. 

" Allow me to introduce myself," he said. " My 
name is Smith — John Smith. As it is an odd name 
and difficult to remember, perhaps I had better write 
it on a card ?" 

A facetious fellow, thought I. Well, I like that. 



A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 55 

Give me a man of humor for a companion. It is bet- 
ter to laugh than to cry, and he who contributes to 
the mirth of mankind, is a public benefactor. 

" John Smith !" I replied. " A very odd name, 
indeed ; but, pardon me, not at all euphonious. 
And yet, 

' What's in a name ! that which we call a rose, 
By any other name would smell as sweet. ' " 

" If you don't like my name," he said, quickly 
"I'll change it. My father's was Smith, and my 
mother's was Smith, and at home I could not change 
it without a special act of the legislature. But now, 

I am on the high seas, 
I can do as I please. 

Let me see. Musgrave ! Harry Musgrave ! Is that 
euphonious ?" 

"Quite so/ 1 I replied. 

" My name, sir, is Musgrave — Harry Musgrave!" 

"Mr. Musgrave,' 1 said I, grasping his extended 
hand, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." 

" With yours, 1 ' said he, shaking my hand heartily, 
" I am delighted. I like a man of expedients. It 
was capital the way you managed that old Gabbler" 

" Ga-bler," said I, correcting him. 

"Yes, yes," said he, with a smile. " That is his 
pronunciation. But all who know him call him 



56 benedict's wanderings. 

Grab-ler. And in the fitness of things his name should 
have another 6." 

"I might infer from your remark," said I, inter- 
rogatively, " that you have some knowledge of this 
man and his character ?" 

" Yes, I have," he replied. " Years ago my father 
was one of his parishioners, and all through my 
childhood I enjoyed the transcendent privilege of sit- 
ting under the droppings of his sanctuary. He is a 
very remarkable man, and yet a single verse of 

' Poet Burns, Poet Burns, wT his priest-skelping turns,' 
will convey a correct idea of his character. Among 
the clergy of Hartford where he ' preaches the Gospel 
to every creature' who goes to hear him, he is reck- 
oned 

'A burnin' and a shinin' light 
To a' that place.' " 

That my new acquaintance was what the distin- 
guished phonographer, Josh Billings, would call a 
" phunny phello," was unmistakably evident in the 
first sentence he uttered ; but I now began to fear 
that he was inclined to make light of sacred things, 
and of that I disapproved. To satisfy myself on this 
point, I inquired if he thought the reverend doctor 
would be flattered with his eulogy ? 

" I do, indeed," he replied; but added, in the 
the same breath, " though possibly he might prefer a 
different phraseology." 



A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 57 

"Precisely," said I. "A panegyric may be 
couched in such terms as to resemble ridicule." 

He smiled and was about to reply, comically no 
doubt, for there was a merry twinkle in his eye, but 
at that moment he observed the subject of our con- 
versation advancing toward Us. 

"Please do me the favor," he said, hurriedly, 
" to call me John Smith in his presence." 

" Does he not know you ?" I inquired. 

" 0, no," he replied. " I have grown quite out of 
his knowledge. It is well, too, for if he knew me, he 
would worry me to death." 

To do that, I thought, would require little exer- 
tion. His white face and wasted form had already 
the semblance of death. It seemed to me, who had 
just traveled a long way in that direction, that he 
was walking on the very verge of the grave. 

Divining my thoughts, he said, with a sorrowful 
accent, " You are right. I am another of those mis- 
taken mortals who have laid clown their precious 
lives a sacrifice upon the altar of unhallowed ambi- 
tion. 1 ' And then he broke forth into rhapsody — 

" 'Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, 
When Science' self destroy'd her favorite son ! 
Yes ! she too much indulged thy fond pursuit, 
She sovv'd the seeds, but death has reap'd the fruit. 
'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, 
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low : 



58 Benedict's wanderings. 

So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, 
No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, 
And wing'd the shaft that quivcr'd in his heart : 
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel 
He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel, 
While the same plumage that had warrn'd hisjiest 
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.' " 

" Many a time and oft 1 ' had I admired that most 
beautiful passage of the " English Bards," but never 
before had I heard it so eloquently and pathetically 
uttered. 

After a pause long enough for the tones of his voice 
to die away, he resumed. " Do not think me so vain 
as to compare myself to ' Unhappy White !' And 
yet these words, but slightly modified, might become 
at once my history and my epitaph." 

A little curious to know in what way and for what 
odject he had so labored, I ventured to ask at what 
institution he had been educated. 

"I .see," said he ; "you do not remember me. 
Well, I do not wonder. I was a robust, ruddy, rol- 
licking boy when I entered your university." 

As I had never known a student of Yale grow pale 
and puny under the ordinary study of that institu- 
tion, I was very greatly surprised at the fact implied 
in his declaration. 

"0 !" said he, " you must not suppose that I was 
in that old fociliferous department and confined my- 



A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 59 

self to its colonial curriculum. I was in Sheffield, 
where men have to labor for what they get, and get 
something worth the effort. But at the same time, 
to gain advancement, I also studied a profession ; and 
these two together — well, you see the result. My 
motto then was — Do or die /' ' 

" I fear," said I, "a most unfortunate motto for 
you, judging by appearances." 

" Yes," said he, " unfortunate for any body. But 
I have now a better, which I follow strictly under 
the advice of my physician. — 

'As we journey through life, 

Let us live by the way ; 
The cares of to-morrow, 

Let us bury to-day.' " 



fCyf^®*^ - 



CHAPTEK XI. 



THE CONGREGATION. 



(gfgjllp FEW minutes before ten, Captain Small con- 
ducted the clergyman to the main deck, and 
j<Sj§ seated him in an arm chair, which was to be the 
pulpit for the occasion. He seated himself in another 
chair, and took out his chronometer to note the time. 
Immediately the audience began to assemble, the first 
being his wife and daughter. These were followed 
by the wife and daughter of the clergyman, and these 
again by the two English ladies. Now I noticed for 
the first time, that one of these ladies, the governor's 
wife, was totally blind, and that she was led about 
the vessel by her companion. I afterwards learned 
that the cause of her affliction was cataract, and that 
her sight had gone from her gradually through a 
period of many months. It was not until she found 
herself in impenetrable darkness, that she consented to 
part from her husband, who could not leave his post 
without permission from his government. She was 



THE CONGREGATION. 61 

now on her way to London, having already crossed 
the Pacific ocean and the continent of America, to 
place herself under the treatment of some skillful 
oculist. 

The Count and Countess di Lavarello, being devout 
Catholics, remained in their state-room during the 
services. Indeed the countess, save at the dinner 
table the day before, had scarcely been seen after the 
ship reached the ocean. She was sick whenever the 
vessel was in motion, no length of time at sea ena- 
bling her to overcome the nausea. As the count spent 
the greater part of his time by the side of his afflicted 
wife, I saw but little of him until we reached Scot- 
land, and it was not until then that I made their de- 
lightful acquaintance. 

Presently John Marshall, followed by his wife, 
walked forward, and mingled with the congregation. 
He was an Episcopalian, but entirely free from the 
paltry prejudices which characterize so many mem- 
bers of the established church of England. He had 
resided eighteen years in America, and within that 
period had witnessed the worship of many other prot- 
estant denominations. He had ceased to be a bigot, 
and become a man of toleration. 

After the Marshalls came the winsome widow, 
whom I had been unable hitherto to see distinctly, 
owing to the high heads of the feminine Gablers. 



62 benedict's wanderings. 

She was clad in purple to indicate that her sorrow was 
softening, and she wore the customary cap — that 
modest means a woman has of announcing to the world 
that she is again in the matrimonial market. The 
Bloom on her cheeks was like the sunny side of a 
peach, and her lips like two ripe cheries. I had a 
predilection for widows ; they are 

" Courteous though coy, and gentle though retired ;" 
and they never die of a broken heart, even if they 
fail to win the one they want. Yet, being a Bene- 
dict, I should not have dared do more in this instance, 
than stand apart and look my appreciation, much as 
I adored the beauty of the bereaved one, had not cir- 
cumstances over which I had no control, thrown me 
into her society. But I shall not anticipate. 

Of course I did not expect to see O'Neil, the " fine 
ould Irish gintleman," and Miss Nora M'Kenna, 
the "' colleen bawn" in his charge, among the con- 
gregation ; for they, like the Count and Countess di 
Lavarello, were consecrated Catholics. But the 
young lady, rather than be singular on such an occa- 
sion, begged the old gentleman to go upon deck and 
sit in the outskirts of the assembly ; and after much 
persuasion he yielded, on condition that she would 
first allow him to go for five minutes to his state- 
room, and agree not to speak to him until the servi- 
ces were concluded. Nora consented, but was a lit- 



THE CONGREGATION. 63 

tie apprehensive lest lie should return with half a 
pint of whiskey under his waistcoat. Much to her 
surprise, however, he came back as sober as he went, 
and giving her his arm, escorted her to a rearmost 
seat in the audience. He sat down by her side, but 
throughout the services, looked off upon the sea, with 
the most stolid indifference. Afterwards I found out 
that, while in his state-room, he had stuffed his ears 
with raw cotton, that he might not hear, as he termed 
it, " any of the ould heretic's blasphemy." 

Now the other passengers of the saloon went for- 
ward, one after the other, until all were present save 
Donald Dinnie, who stood near the mizzen mast, 
with a scowl upon his countenance, looking like a 
savage in his heathen habiliments. But when the pas- 
sengers of the second cabin began to assemble, and he 
observed the woman and maid of Inverness, he walked 
forward boldly and pushed himself into their pres- 
ence ; and throughout the services that ensued, 
availed himself of every opportunity to annoy the 
preacher, or to whisper and wheedle "the ship's 
beauty." In his conduct on this oecasion, there was 
something so offensive to the captain, that I feared 
lest there might be an outburst, resulting in his un- 
ceremonious expulsion from the congregation. For- 
tunately, however, the reverend doctor had the good 
sense to ignore his presence, save once near the close 



64 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



of his discourse, when in a moment of exasperation, 
he burst forth in the language of Paul : 

" full of all subtlety and all mischief, thou child 
of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt 
thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the 
Lord ?" 




S : * 



CHAPTER XII. 



DIVINE SERVICE. 




|HEN all the passengers, including those of 
the steerage, had assembled on the deck, 
together with such of the officers, sailors 
and ordinary hands as could be spared from their du- 
ties, Dr. G-abler saw before him a congregation more 
diverse in their creeds and beliefs, in their doubts and 
disbeliefs, than any he had ever addressed. At first 
he was uncertain how to preach the Gospel to such 
a promiscuous assembly ; but after a little reflection, 
concluded that it was his duty to commend the good 
and condemn the bad, to the end that the first might 
be encouraged and the other discouraged. Having 
settled this point in his mind, he took uj3 the Bible, 
turned over a few leaves, and then read aloud the ac- 
count of Paul's voyage to Rome. This done, he stood 
up and said, " Let us pray." 

Thereupon some of the congregation rose to their 
feet, others knelt down, and others bowed their heads, 
each after the ceremony to which he was accustomed. 



66 Benedict's wanderings. 

The orisons of the doctor were fervent, and fit to the 
occasion. He began with thanks for the fair weather 
we had enjoyed since we ventured our lives upon the 
" vasty deep ;" then prayed that the rest of our voy- 
age might be equally pleasant and prosperous ; but 
if storms should arise, and the ship should be foun- 
dered, implored the God of Heaven that, like the one 
in which Paul was wrecked, it might be near the 
shore, "that they which could swim might cast 
themselves into the sea and get to land ; and the 
rest, some on boards, and some on broken pieces of 
the ship ; so that it might come to pass that they 
escaped all safe to land." 

At the conclusion of his prayer, the reverend doc- 
tor took up a smaller book and said, " Let us praise 
the Lord by singing the — " 

He stopped suddenly, colored a little, looked at his 
wife crossly, and then said, " By some mistake, I am 
not provided with a book of hymns. Is there any 
any such thing in the congregation ?" 

There was silence, then a little sensation among 
the believers, and after that a few percep table smiles 
on the lips of the unbelievers. 

" As there appears to be no such book," said the 
doctor, "will some brother lead the singing, selecting 
words with which we are all familiar ?'" 

There was a brief pause, and then Musgrave arose. 



DIVINE SERVICE. 67 

seemingly paler and feebler than at any time before, 
but in a voice as clear and almost as loud as a clarion, 
sang to the tune of old Dundee the following words : 

" With vast amazement we survey 
The wonders of the deep, 
Where mackerel swim and porpoise play, 
And crabs and lobsters creep." 

The first two lines produced a most favorable im- 
pression upon the devout listeners ; but the last two, 
notwithstanding the superiority of the singing, rather 
shocked their sense of propriety. Without noticing 
the effect, however, Musgrave continued : 

" Fish of all kinds inhabit here, 
And throng the dark abode. 
Here haddock, hake, and flounders are, 
And eels, and perch, and cod." 

At this point the doctor interfered. "As these 
words are not familiar to the congregation," he re- 
marked, "I think we had better omit the singing." 

Musgrave bowed assent, and resumed his seat as 
unconcernedly as if what he had done was entitled to 
the highest praise. Now there was a greater sensa- 
tion among the professors, and broader smiles upon 
the faces of the dissenters ; and the doubts of the doc- 
tor, as to the tenor of his discourse, were thoroughly 
dissipated. Said he : '' The words of my text are 
the twenty-fourth verse of the twenty-eighth chapter 
of the Acts of the Apostles — 'And some believed the 



68 benedict's wanderings. 

things which were spoken, and some believed not.' ' 

The doctor divided his subject into two parts, in 
one of which he eulogized the righteous, and in the 
other portrayed the proscription and punishment of 
the wicked. His pictures of Paradise were drawn 
from the poetry of Milton, while Pollock furnished 
him with a panarama of hell and ' the damned. It 
was a most wonderful discourse ! 

The sermon finished, another prayer followed, in 
which the divine fervently supplicated for the bless- 
ings of Almighty God upon the reprobates of the con- 
gregation — meaning Dinnie and Musgrave. A true 
Christian invocation, for these men merited reproof 
for their irreverent behavior, rather than the full for- 
giveness extended to them by the minister in his 
great magnanimity. 

The people were about to disperse to their respect- 
ive places, when the clergyman pressed another mat- 
ter upon their attention. " My dear hearers," said 
he, " when I left home, I charged myself with a spe- 
cial mission. In the suburbs of the city where I re- 
side, there is a little Christian church, which began a 
few months since as a Sunday School, but now gives 
promise of great future usefulness. As yet, however, 
the good people there are without a house in which 
to worship, and I have undertaken, of mv own voli- 
tion, to raise a fund sufficient for that purpose, before 



DIVINE SERVICE. 69 

I return to America. It occurred to me at the close 
of our exercises, that the present might be a favorable 
opportunity to commence. Will some person, well- 
disposed toward this enterprise, pass through the 
congregation, and gather the contributions ? My 
dear friends, in asking you to give to this good work, 
I do not expect lavishment, but merely from each 
who can afford it, a dollar or two." 

Musgrave immediately arose, and with his hat in 
hand, presented himself before Captain Small, and 
with a most imperturbable countenance, said — 

"If you want a good name, 
And a well-cushioned pew, 
You must freely come down 
With a dollar or two. 

"For the Gospel is preached, 

For a dollar or two ; 

And salvation is reached, 

For a dollar or two." 

The captain was a little startled by the words of 
the young man, but took out his purse and dropped 
a coin in the hat. Four or five others followed his 
example, and then Musgrave came to Dinnie." 

" Aff wi' ye," said the Scotchman. " I shall gie 
ye naething. I dinna care for the priest ; let him 
pay his own expenses." 

" The priest is provided for," said Musgrave. " It 
is the poor people of a parish who crave your pity." 



70 benedict's wanderings. 

" Deil-ma-care/' cried Dinnie. " I hae naething 
to gie. Now, goe awa\ " 

" Most unfortunate of men/' exclaimed Musgrave, 
in a solemn voice. 

" The great sin of the times, 
And the worst of all crimes, 
Is to find yourself short 
Of a dollar or iioo." 

As Musgrave passed through the congregation, 
coins in plenty dropped into the hat, and accumulated 
until the crown was covered. At iirst the doctor was 
a little doubtful if it was proper to receive donations 
induced by the wit of a wag rather than the impor- 
tance of the enterprise, but at the sight of the glit- 
tering gold he managed to overcome his scruples. 
He thanked the people for their bountiful gift, and 
thanked Musgrave for his assistance, but at the same 
time chided him for his levity. To which Musgrave 
replied, " Ah, doctor, there is many a truth spoken in 
jest." 




m 



CHAPTER XIII. 

AMUSEMENTS. 

jHERE .were no religious services in the after- 
noon or evening. Indeed, although we spent 
two other Sundays at sea, Dr. Gabler never 
proposed another sermon. Musgrave said he had 
accomplished his purpose and was satisfied — had 
preached at sea, and collected a considerable fund 
toward the building of a church edifice for the wor- 
ship of a congregation under the pastoral care of a 
young licenciate, who was in time to marry the ac- 
complished Arrabella. 

In the evening, however, the passengers of the sec- 
ond cabin assembled again on the main deck, and 
held a sacred concert or praise meeting. It was 
somewhat promiscuous and unrestrained in its charac- 
ter, and I was invited to participate. As the singing 
was such as I had been accustomed to at home, I 
joined in it heartily, and much to my surprise was 
complimented. This was the more gratifying to me, 
as among those with whom I had spent most of my 



72 benedict's wanderings. 

life, I had never enjoyed the reputation of being a 
superior singer ; from which I infer that my musical 
talent must be specially adapted to the sea. 

The praise meeting, a great success in its way, 
terminated at about eight o'clock. On repairing to 
the grand saloon, I found Mrs. Small and daughter, 
assisted by several ladies and gentlemen, engaged in 
a soiree musicale, or rival concert, but of like charac- 
ter. My reputation had already proceeded me, and I 
was again invited to take part in the performance. 
As under the circumstances I could not refuse, I did 
my best, and rejoice to say, that the credit I had 
gained on deck, was fully endorsed in the saloon. 

It was late when we dispersed for the night — a 
night such as I never experienced. Though tired, I 
could not sleep, at least not soundly ; every effort to 
do so was frustrated by the dragging of chains, and 
shrieks long and loud, and of a most unearthly char- 
acter. In my over-wrought imagination and dreams, 
I saw all the horrors of the damned, as depicted by 
Dr. Gabler in his sermon. In the morning I ascer- 
tained that, in consequence of a dense fog, it had 
been necessary to keep the fog-whistle in operation 
all night, and take other active means to secure the 
the ship against accident. 

The principal incident of the day was the speaking 
of the Cunard steamer Scotia, with signal flags, the 



AMUSEMENTS. 73 

laneriacre of which I did not understand. The vessels 
were not near enough to converse through trumpets, 
or to recognize individuals even through a telescope. 

During the day two passengers, who had not paid a 
fare, were found on board — two pretty land birds, 
blown out to sea by the storm. They came to the 
vessel for shelter, and after a time overcoming their 
natural timidity, allowed themselves to be captured. 
They soon became great favorites with the ladies. 

The evening of this day being unpleasant was 
spent in the saloon, where the passengers whiled 
away the hours to bedtime, with conversation and 
conundrums. The latter were suggested by the blind 
lady, and participated in by a number of the passen- 
gers. The best of them are scarcely worth the pre- 
servation, yet may be repeated as serving to show 
how people at sea amuse themselves. 

The blind lady led off with the query : " Why is 
it no joke when a hen lays an egg ?" I know not 
whether it was original with her ; it was the first 
time I had heard it. She thought the surgeon ought 
to guess it, but he acknowledged his inability. 
What he could not do in this instance, the rest did 
not attempt. At length the lady was obliged to 
answer her own interrogatory : " Because she is in 
earnest (in her nest)." 

•Several indifferent quibbles followed, and then 



74 benedict's wanderings. 

Musgrave, with a gravity peculiar to himself, in- 
quired : " Who of all the people on board is the 
greatest talker ?" No one doubted but that he had 
reference to the ship's surgeon, whose tongue was 
never still for a minute at a time between waking 
and sleeping ; but the fun, if any, was not discerni- 
ble. " Is it the doctor ?" queried one. " Yes," re- 
plied Musgrave, " not the M. D., however, but the 
D. D." Now the conceit was clear enough — " The 
great Gab-ler." 

Not to be outdone in a conundrum of this charac- 
ter, the blind lady asked permission to propound 
another, which she addressed to the captain's daugh- 
ter : " What is that word of one sylable, which, by 
the addition of another sylable, becomes less ?" As 
it was addressed to her, Miss Small gave it up with 
reluctance ; the rest of us without hesitation. Said 
the blind lady, rather gleefully, — she was a cheer- 
ful person notwithstanding her afflction, — " If you 
add a sylable to Small, it becomes Smaller." 

Though not ambitious to figure in this species of 
witticism, when it came to be my turn, willing to add 
my mite to the evening's entertainment, I proposed : 
" If I am not sea-sick, and my room-mate, Bachelor, 
occupying the berth over mine, begins to manifest 
unmistakable signs of inward commotion, what shall 
I do with him ?" For a time it was a poser, but 



AMUSEMENTS. 75 

finally a light like inspiration broke in upon the 
brilliant brain of the purser, who, in a rich bass 
voice, replied: " Send him to grief, (Grieve)" — that 
being the surgeon's name. 

The surgeon, a little provoked that the purser 
should have guessed it so readily, resolved to have 
revenge. " What officer of this ship," said he, " is 
like Judas Iscarriot ?" "In what respect?" in- 
quired one. " In any respect." No one could an- 
swer. " The purser," said the surgeon. " I don't see 
it ?" said the blind lady. " He carries the bag" 

When it came his turn, Bachelor reflected for a 
moment, and then said, very gravely : "Why is an 
elephant like an oyster? 1 ' Even the purser was 
obliged to admit his inability to discern any resem- 
blance. "Because," said Bachelor, " he can' t climb 
a tree." 

" Oh, Bach !" said I, sote voce. " That's too bad; 
it's old, you know." 

" You just keep quiet," said he. " These Scotch- 
men don't know it ; and it's just as good to them as 
a fresh one." 

I do not know what the Scotchmen thought ; they 
said nothing ; but during the rest of the voyage no 
one ever ventured another conundrum. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



THE FANCY BALL. 



Cm?' 

m 



*HE next day, like the past evening, was disa- 
' greeable ; there were clouds, and a hazy at- 
« rnosphere, and occasionally chill winds. The 
ladies, who prefer fair weather at sea, scarcely 
showed themselves on the decks. The gentlemen 
moped, and did all they could to make each other 
miserable. The officers were moody, and not dis- 
posed to converse. Not finding any body on deck 
inclined to be agreeable, I went back to my state- 
room. There it was no better, my companion being 
deep in "The Eeveries of a Bachelor." Finally, I 
went to the great saloon. 

Here I found my good friends — in one sense old, 
in another new — John Marshall and wife, and joined 
them. After a few common place remarks, our con- 
versation turned upon their history, of which I re- 
member a few particulars. They had resided eighteen 
years in America, during which time Mr. Marshall had 



THE FANCY BALL. 77 

been successful in business. They were now return- 
ing to England, free from debt, with twenty thous- 
and dollars in their possession, to spend the remnant 
of their lives with two nieces — their nearest rela- 
tives — who, at their death, were to inherit their prop- 
erty. 

The Marshalls occupied a state-room next to mine, 
and after this interview, much of our time was spent 
in each other' s society. He was a man of good edu- 
cation and of considerable culture, and quite well ac- 
quainted — a rare thing for an Englishman — with the 
construction and policy of our government. Mrs. 
Marshall, a most worthy woman, affectionate in her 
disposition, and of motherly tenderness as I have 
good reasons to remember, was equally well informed, 
and enjoyed even a better memory. To these excellent 
people I was indebted for very much ,of the pleasure 
which I enjoyed during our voyage. 

By Wednesday morning the dullness had become 
intolerable, and even the ladies were glad to creep 
out upon the deck and enjoy what my friend O'Neil 
called " the ilegant water view/' This day we were 
off Newfoundland for several hours, and had a good 
opportunity to observe distantly its bleak and barren 
coast ; but instead of affording pleasure, it gave us 
all what Mrs. Gabler called the blues, a pious contrac- 
tion of blue devils. I wondered to what straits those 



78 benedict's wanderings. 

early voyagers must have been reduced, to have wel- 
comed the sight of such a land. But it will not do 
to question their judgment in this respect, for it is 
the fashion now to trace ancestry back to them as an 
honorable starting point ; indeed, I should do the 
same if I could find a Benedict among the notables 
of the May Flower. 

While off the coast of Newfoundland, fighting the 
blue-devils, — I beg Mrs. Gabler's pardon — a musical 
entertainment of stupendous proportions was pro- 
jected for the following evening ; to consist of an 
orchestra, solos, duetts, concerts, and terminate with 
a grand fancy ball. Through the chairman of the 
committee of arrangements I received a special in- 
vitation, and was assigned a prominent part in the 
performance. I wished to decline, but was assured 
that, without my aid, the whole thing would be a 
failure. Indeed, I am not quite certain that it was 
otherwise with my assistance. 

Som^ parts of the performance were unquestionably 
good, the solos in particular. There were some ex- 
cellent voices, and some of them were highly culti- 
vated, the best being those of Miss Small, Miss 
M'Kenna and Musgrave. The best uneducated 
singer was the chief engineer. He was indeed a most 
extraordinary vocalist, with a compass of voice and a 
clearness of tone I have never heard surpassed. In 



THE FANCY BALL. 79 

personal appearance he was almost as remarkable as 
in natural musical talent ; a Scotchman, tall, raw- 
boned, and angular, with jet black hair worn short, 
and a full flowing beard of the same color, so luxuriant 
as to leave visible, under his military cap, only his 
nose and eyes. ! thought I, what a splendid pio- 
neer he would make for a company of Connecticut 
militia ! 

The orchestra, consisting of a cracked violin and a 
wind-broken accordeon, though of little benefit to the 
singing, answered a very good purpose when we came 
"to trip the light fantastic toe. 1 ' In the first set I 
danced with Mrs. Small, and in the next with Mrs. 
Marshall ; Bachelor, in both, with the winsome wid- 
ow ; the surgeon with Miss Small ; Musgrave with 
Miss M'Kenna, and Dinnie with Miss MacGill. 

Then Bachelor introduced me to the widow, with 

> 
whom I danced the rest of the evening ; while he 

himself vacillated between the captain's daughter and 

" the ship's beauty," much to the discomfort of both 

Dinnie and the surgeon. 




(t(IE 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE CAT-ASTROPHE. 

HE morning of Friday was bright and beau- 
tiful, and many of the passengers had come 



<?fp upon deck to enjoy the sunshine. They 



were dispersed in pairs and trios, and even little 
groups, engaged in desultory conversation. Here and 
there was an individual, a sort of solitary, standing 
apart, with folded arms, scanning the sea and sky, 
or searching the horizon for some object of attractive 
interest. But there was the sunshine of satisfaction 
in every countenance. 

Suddenly there was heard a caterwauling of the 
most hideous character. It proceeded from one of 
the gangways leading to the forward cabin, and was 
immediately followed by a Maltese cat, of unusual 
size and beauty, "all in a flame of fire," Some of 
the female passengers were startled by the sound, 
others shocked at the sight, and all were filled with 
apprehension lest the ship should be set on fire. 

On reaching the deck, Grimalkin made directly for 



THE CAT-ASTKOPHE. 81 

a coterie of ladies standing near the wheel-house. 
Such a screeching and scampering never before oc- 
curred on board the old Columbia. Indeed, there 
was sufficient cause for consternation ; it was possi- 
ble to set the women on fire, even if the ship escaped. 
Yet in spite of the danger, there was something ex- 
ceedingly ludicrous in the scene. I shall not describe 
the appearance of the ladies ; that I must leave to 
conjecture ; but the following are some of their ex- 
clamations, simultaneously uttered : " Oh ! Oh ! 
'Scat ! 'Scat ! Take it away ! Kill it ! We shall 
all be burned ! Lord, have mercy upon us !" 

Disappointed in these women, the poor suffering 
animal ran away forward, toward a group of girls, 
who were scarcely less frightened, and made full as 
much fluttering and fuss. Meeting with no better 
reception from the inmates of the second cabin, puss 
returned to the after deck, and dashed again at the 
circle of ladies near the wheelhouse, putting them to 
ignominious flight. 

Then up and clown and across the deck, though 
scorched to the skin and still in a flame, poor Malta 
ran at the top of his speed, wauling the while in a y} 
most piteous and painful manner. In truth, it was a 
sight sickening to behold ! 

Presently a couple of sailors, each with a marline- 
spike, or some other of the ship's instruments, went 



82 benedict's wanderings. 

in pursuit, and the poor inflamed creature, after be- 
ing coursed about the deck for a few seconds, to 
avoid their deathful blows leaped overboard and was 
drowned. 

Up to this moment I had not noticed the executive 
officer. He was standing near the mizzen mast, ob- 
servant of all that had transpired on the deck. 

" Was it turpentine ?" he inquired of the sailors. 

" Ay, ay, sir," replied one of them. 

u Who did it ?" he demanded. 

The question was asked in an ordinary tone, though 
I could see by his heightened color and the fearful 
flash of his eye, that he was greatly incensed. 

There was no reply. The sailors stood still, with 
their eyes dropped on the deck. They knew, but 
would not answer. The old salt, as the weather- 
beaten tar is often called, will undergo punishment 
at times, rather than inform against a comrade. 

" Go below \" cried the officer. 

The words were uttered, or rather bellowed forth, 

in a tone so savage, that the sailors on the instant, 

': and as it were for their lives, ran away quickly to the 

forward gangway and disappeared. Decending by 

the nearest stairs, the officer also disappeared. 

I inquired of the second officer, near whom I was 
standing at the time, what would be the fate of these 
men for refusing to answer. 



THE CAT-ASTROPHE. 83 

"I dinna ken," he replied. 

Not satisfied with this answer, I put another ques- 
tion : "What do you conjecture ?" 

" Weel," said he, in the broadest language I ever 
heard, " it may be ye'll see nae mair o' themsel to 
the en' o' the voyage." 

He was a Scotchman, as may be inferred from his 
pronunciation, though it was only when he wished to 
avoid the inquiries of passengers that he resorted to 
the Scotch idiom. At such times, as few, not them- 
selves Scotchmen, understood his -replies, he was sel- 
dom troubled a second time. 

He was not popular with the passengers ; they 
thought him morose, and perhaps he was taciturn. 
But there was not on board the ship an officer more 
careful in the discharge of his duties, or more wary of 
his words when they in any way pertained to his fel- 
low officers. These latter traits, always estimable, 
in an officer at sea almost indispensable, had secured 
him the respect and confidence of his superiors, and 
with these he was satisfied. 

Though I had no difficulty in catching his mean- 
ing, I did not care to press him with questions, see- 
ing that he was inclined to be reticent. I passed 
over to the third officer, a young man in most re- 
spects of an opposite character — vain and conceited, 
with few thoughts and a vocabulary of words. 



S4 Benedict's wanderings. 

" It will be bad for those men p" T remarked. 
interrogatively, 

"Yes.'* he replied. "They will certainly be pun- 
ished in some way." 

" The officer was very angry ?" I continued. 

" Did you think so ? To me he seemed as mild as 
a May morning. Why. sir. I have seen him when he 
was more to he feared than a thunderbolt — when 
even the captain could not restrain his wrath or stay 
his powerful arm." 

"I pity the poor sailor who has to serve under such 
a master." I remarked. " I even pity the two sent 
below, though what they meant lor sport was both 
cruel and wicked." 

" It was not they who set the cat on fire." he re- 
plied. " Their offense was a refusal to expose the 
real culprit. But they might as well, for he has 
been discovered." 

M Indeed !" I exclaimed. " Who is he ?" 

u Tom Tackle, a young fellow who shipped at 
New York for the voyage." 

I remembered him. A bright young fellow, who 
seemed to be out oi his place, and was certainly un- 
der an assumed name. He was too well informed 
for a common sailor, though he carefully endeavored 
to conceal his intelligence. I had taken a BOrt oi 



THE CAT-ASTROPHE. 85 

fancy to him, and hoped in time to find out some- 
thing of his history. 

'■ What will be done with him ?" 

" Hard to say. Bread and water and the dungeon 
at least. Possibly the cat-o' -nine-tails." 

It was three days later before the sailors who re- 
fused to inform, apppeared again upon the deck ; the 
stripling who fired the cat, though anxiously looked a 
for, was not seen again during the voyage. 



fi^j 



CHAPTER XVI. 



THE STORM. 



I 



N the night the wind changed, and black 
§|j clouds obscured the starry canopy ; the ele- 
ments were conspiring together to give us battle. 
On hoard preparations were made to repel the 
assault ; but none too soon, for at lay-break the 
storm-king swept down upon ns in all his fearful 
fury. 

" The rain fell in torrents, 
The thunder rolled deep;" 

the flashes of lightning were almost incessant ; the 
wind rapidly increased to a gale ; " the waves ran 
mountain high," and the vessel, unable to stem the 
storm, was driven hundreds of miles from her regular 
course, within two hundred miles of " Greenland's 
Icy Mountains." For five days and nights the storm 
raged with unabated violence, and six days were re- 
quired to recover the lost distance. 

Until the storm reached its height, a few of the 
passengers had escaped nausea, Dinnie, Bachelor and 



THK STORM. 87 

myself among the number ; but when the vessel be- 
gan to heave and plunge, all save Bachelor were 
forced to succumb. The Scotchman resisted man- 
fully, and, at last, gave in, or, rather, gave out, and 
his groans could be heard above the thunder. I, too, 
did my best to keep the valves of the stomach closed, 
and suffered all the more in consequence. In the 
end, perhaps there was not a sicker sinner on board 
the old ship than poor Benedict. I fully realized the 
feeling another had suffered and described ; for the 
first half hour I feared that I should die, and for the 
next half hour I feared that I should not. But in 
my case the half hours were multiplied into days and 
nights, and at one time I should gladly have gone 
ashore on the barren coast of Greenland. 

With the subsidence of the storm, however, I re- 
covered my health and appetite. Most of the others 
continued to suffer while the effects remained, and 
some of them during the rest of the voyage. Mus- 
grave was of the latter, and for ten days was not seen 
again on deck. Dinnie, though he managed to take 
his meals, did not keep some of them long ; and the 
loss of his " kail and potatoes" occasioned a simul- 
taneous loss of good temper. 

One of the first to recover from the effects of the 
storm, was Miss Small, who was never sick except in 
a gale. She came upon the deck to breathe a little 



Benedict's wanpekin - 

fresh air, and immediately Bachelor, who had moped 
for two or three days, pounced upon her as a hawk 
on a dove. It was the first fair opportunity he had 
enjoyed since the unfortunate interruption at the 
piano. But while he was talking to her, she •• - 
taken sick again suddenly and was obliged to return 
he saloon. Bachelor cursed the sea, but I in- 
sisted, greatly to his annoyance, that the sea was not 
to blame ; that it was what he was saying that pro- 
duced the nausea. 

It occurred to me at this moment, that I might 
have my revenge on Bachelor for the joke he had at- 
tempted to play off upon the preacher and myself. 
That day I lingered at the dinner table in conversa- 
tion with the surgeon, and when Bachelor left, made 
him the subject of remark. U A capita) fellow:"' 
[said " -V man without a fault, save one ; he > I 
most incorrigible coquette. Had I a sister here, I 
should never allow her to be alone in his society." 

I had my reveuge, indeed ; but not precisely what 
I desired. I hoped to see him chafe with impatience 
'.ie eonstaut presence of the mother or some other 
person, whenever he and Miss Small were together. 
But instead of that, he saw no more of the young 
lady; her sea-siekr. — - ing I -ay, continued to 
the end of the voyag I pitied her, for I knew she 

- Oriented. 



THE STORM. 89 

Bachelor was moody again for a day or two ; but 
on the third day Miss MacGill appeared on deck, and 
the Bight of her dancing curls instantly restored him 
to cheerfulness. Be joined her at once, and as her 
companion was .still suffering from the sickness oc- 
casioned by the storm, there was no one present "to 
molest or make them afraid." The tete-a-tete of that 
afternoon was but the precursor of many others ; in- 
deed, for a whole week they were more than half the 
time together. Their intimacy had already attracted 
the attention of the other passengers, and occasioned 
no little speculation. 

At length, news of this courtship, or flirtation, 
came to the knowledge of Dinnie, as he lay in his 
berth on the broad of his hack, suffering from a re- 
cent attack of nausea. Ill as he was, upon hearing 
the facts he got up and came upon deck surcharged 
with anger, hoping to find the offenders together. It 
happened on that day, that " the ship's beauty" lin- 
gered below after dinner to execute some trifling 
kindness for her companion. But seeing Bachelor 
near the gang-way leading to the second cabin, wait- 
ing for the maid of Inverness, as he supposed, he 
made for him. 

"Caddie!" cried he fiercely, using the Scotch 
idiom in his anger, "daur ye mak love to my bonnie 
lassie ?" 



90 benedict's wanderings. 

Had Bachelor anticipated such an attack, he would 
have been prepared. As it was, before he had time 
to reply, Dinnie seized him by the nape of the neck, 
or collar of the coat, and with a dreadful oath, 
"what I winna name, 1 ' lifted him over the ship's 
side, and held him suspended at arm's length, while 
he informed him that for "tittlin clishmaclaver" to 
his "bonnie dearie,' 1 he intended to commit his body 
to the deep. Bachelor thought he was about to play 
the 

" Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange, eventful history." 

Others of us were of the same opinion, for if ap- 
pearances go for anything, the devil was at that mo- 
ment in the heart of this Groliah of the Highlands. 

Scenes of this sort are never of long duration, 
though, as in this instance, they seem so to those 
who witness the danger and sympathize with the suf- 
ferer. Some of the passengers remonstrated against 
such infamous conduct, others (the ladies) pleaded 
for the life of the poor Bachelor, but it was only in 
obedience to the peremptory command of the cap- 
tain, or in fear of his positive threat of immediate 
arrest and imprisonment, that he desisted. 

Before he could utter a word in his defence, how- 
ever, the captain said, in a very decided manner, 



THE STORM. 



91 



" You will go ashore at the first landing place, or 
into custody at Londonderry." 

Without deigning a word in reply, Dinnie turned 
qn his heel and walked away, with a glance over his 
shoulder of scorn and defiance. 



*tm 



K* 




m<* 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LAND, HO ! 

^ffgVEN the bright and beautiful weather that 
»SJm followed the storm, failed to restore the quie- 
WM® tude and confidence of a great number of the 
passengers. Mrs. Small tried to get her daughter on 
deck, but every time the latter made the least exer- 
tion, her sickness returned. Musgrave stayed in the 
saloon, and spent most of his time with Miss 
M'Kenna, who, upon a more intimate acquaintance, 
was found to be a girl of remarkable intelligence. 
Dinnie was slow in his recovery, but managed to 
keep a constant watch upon Bachelor and " the ship's 
beauty ;" but the latter was not seen again on deck, 
until we came in sight of land. O'Neil and Mar- 
shall I had made acquainted, and they became great 
friends, though they abused each other roundly 
whenever the conversation turned upon politics. 

Had Miss MacGrill continued to come on deck, 
Bachelor would have persisted in his attentions, de- 
spite the disapproval of the renowned Dinnie ; and 






LAND, HO ! 93 

he would have maintained his pretentions with the 
help of an unerring Derringer. But when he he- 
came satisfied that she had chosen the better part of 
valor (prudence), he turned away and tried his bland- 
ishments upon Miss Nora. Whether the Irish 
beauty doubted his sincerity, or preferred the big 
brilliant eyes of Musgrave, certain it is he made no 
progress in that quarter. 

Meantime, almost as a necessity, it had devolved 
upon me to play the agreeable to the winsome widow. 
She was a most charming little body, attractive in 
person and conversation, young and beautiful. She 
had been married but a few weeks to a lawyer of 
Brooklyn, who died suddenly — three years gone — , 
leaving her a vast fortune in houses, the rents of 
which supported her luxuriantly. She was of Scotch 
parentage, and was now on a visit to the home of her 
forefathers. Again and again, as we sat together in 
the evening, on the deck or in the saloon, have I re- 
called in thought those oft-quoted lines of a famous 
and favorite bard of Erin : 

" 'Tis sweet to think, that, where'er we rove, 

We are sure to find something blissful and dear, 
And that, when we're far from the lips we love, 
We've but to make love to the lips we are near." 

But I resisted their witching influence, and that I 
might avoid the temptation, I endeavored to interest 
her in my friend Bachelor. 



94 benedict's wanderings. 

One day I said to her : " The more I see of you, 
the better I like you. I am quite certain you could 
secure the happiness of any good man." 

She did not move, or even raise her eyes, but I 
could discern th<> faintest possible blush steal over 
her pretty cheeks. 

"Now, there is my friend Bachelor, 'a fellow of 
infinite jest, of most excellent fancy, 1 — " 

"0 ! don't" she interrupted, a little impatiently. 
" He is all that and more, no doubt. But what is 
it to me ? He is a married man !" 

" He a married man !" I repeated, in a tone of- 
astonishment. " Well, now I am truly surprised, for 
hitherto I had given the ladies credit for some degree 
of penetration. But I will test you farther — Am I 
a married man ?" 

" No," she replied. 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, I shall first convince you 
that I am, and then finish what I was saying. Let 
me begin with the likeness of my wife and children." 

Taking these from an inner pocket next my heart, 
I handed them to her. 

" I have seen them," she said, after a careless 
glance at each of them. 

" Seen them !" I exclaimed, surprised. 

" The pictures, I mean," she replied. 

" Where ? when ?" I inquired. 



LAND, HO ! 95 

"The night of the fancy ball. They are /m," 
making a gesture in the direction of Bachelor. 

The ingenious villian ! He had played us a trick, 
and it was now as plain to me as a picture. That he 
might enjoy a better opportunity to flirt with Miss 
Small and " the ship's beauty," for the pleasure of 
annoying the surgeon and the athlete, he had in- 
vented this story ; and to give it plausibility, had 
borrowed the photographs of my wife and children 
for secret exhibition. 

I explained to her the whole case as it really stood, 
and she listened with close attention ; but I was un- 
certain when done, whether she believed his story or 
my explanation. Without another word, she bade 
me good night, and went directly to her state-room. 

Early the next morning, the hearts of all on board 
were gladdened with the cry, from the man on the 
lookout, "Land, ho!" 

" Whither away ?" inquired the captain, taking up 
his telescope. We had been driven out of our regu- 
lar course, and were now approaching from a differ- 
ent point of the compass. 

After a careful survey of the horizon in the direc- 
tion indicated, the captain lowered his glass, with the 
remark, " Malin Head. We shall make the port by 
noon." 

I had heard so much said about the beauty of Ire- 



96 benedict's wanderings. 

land as seen from the sea — resembling a great glitter- 
ing emerald in the midst of a chased chrystal set- 
ting — that I was really disappointed when I beheld 
the rocky coast of the north country, more bleak and 
desolate, it seemed to me, than even Newfoundland, 
at sight of which I had shuddered. But I consoled 
myself with the reflection, that the resemblance 
might be more perfect from some other approach, and 
that I might yet enjoy the illusion. Had it been 
ten times as bleak, however, I should have rejoiced to 
behold a country of which I had heard so many mar- 
velous stories in my childhood, of which T had read so 
many deeds of daring and bravery in history, and of 
which a native poet had written in praise and 
prophecy : 

" The nations are fallen, and thou still art young, 

Thy sun is but rising when others are set ; 
And though slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung, 

The full moon of freedom shall beam round thee yet. 
Erin ! O Erin ! .though long in the shade, 
Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade !" 



rifle- ~- JjS^« 



PART H. 





CHAPTER I. 



COASTWISE. 




1HEN I left home, it was a matter of little 
consequence to me whither I went, where I 
sojourned, or how I occupied my time, so 
that I regained the health and spirits I had lost 
through my sickness. The instructions of my phy- 
sician were as latitudinous as could well be desired ; 
after a sea voyage I was at liberty to go any where 
b jyond the reach of frost and foul weather. Left to 
their own choice, invalids usually prefer France or 
Italy, on account of the mild climate and the many 
objects of interest found in every nook and corner of 
the country. My inclination led me to select the 
latter, as it bordered on the Mediterranean, the 
countries round about which have furnished the inci- 
dents for more history, sacred and profane, than any 
other body of water in the whole world. Yet it was 
my desire, before visiting the continent, to behold 
sc me of the grandeur and beauty of the British isles, 



100 Benedict's wanderings. 

particularly Ireland and Scotland, whence came my 
ancestors. Indeed, it was part of the plan upon 
which Bachelor and I had settled, that we should 
ramble about these two countries until the dew 
turned to frost — that being the limit of my liberty 
under the mandate of my medical monitor. 

The sight of Malin Head, after the storm through 
which I had passed and the manner I had suffered, 
made ine doubly anxious to stand again on terra- 
jirma; and I resolved in my own mind to leave the 
old ship at Londonderry. But when I came to ac-* 
quaint Bachelor with my purpose, I found that he 
had also fixed upon a place of stoppage, his being 
Glasgow. I endeavored to persuade him to accom- 
pany me, as otherwise he would have to return to 
reland, or go home without having beheld the beau- 
ties of that remarkable country, which, as an induce- 
ment to the ear, I styled, in poetical phrase, "the gem 
of the sea." But he was inflexible, giving as a reason 
that, while in the " Green Isle" there were plenty of 
Benedicts, there were very few Bachelors, and that 
he preferred to be in a country where he could meet 
more of his own relations. 

" Bach,'"' said I, " you are in love. Now, which is 
it, the captain's daughter or the ship's beauty ?" 

" In love ! I hardly know, Ben," he replied, 



COASTWISE. 101 

thoughtfully. '' I hope not, and yet I feel as did the 
poor fellow in the Beggar's Opera — 

' How happy could I be with either, 
Were t'other dear charmer away.' " 

" Well," said I, consolingly, " I am very sorry, for 
Miss Debbie Small (so it was said on the ship) is 
engaged to the surgeon, and Mary MacGrill (I regret 
to say it) is a coquette." 

" As to the engagement," he replied, with unusual 
gravity, " I do not believe a word of it ; and you are 
very greatly mistaken in your estimation of the char- 
acter of Miss MacGill." 

" Serious, eh ? Well, since you are so, I shall 
maintain my position. A week hence you will con- 
firm the rumor, and adopt my estimation of charac- 
ter. Indeed, the latter is susceptible of jiresent 
proof. Miss MacGill is most bewitchingly beautiful, 
and her smiles are like the sunshine of summer ; but 
they are bestowed without discrimination — now on 
Bachelor, anon on Dinnie, at another time on that 
sorrel-haired Scotchman they call Stewart, and had I 
afforded her an opportunity she would have lavished 
them even upon pour Benedict." 

I was about to admonish him not to waste his 
time in making love where it would not be appre- 
ciated, but to turn his thoughts and attentions upon 
one as fair and young as either, the winsome widow. 



102 benedict's wanderings. 

when that beautiful creature came on deck, am 
greeted us with a genial good morning. It was the 
first time I had seen her since the evening when she 
virtually accused me of attempting to pass myself as 
a married man. and I was pleased to observe that sh( 
was in a cheerful and happy mood ; though I could 
not but wonder if she still thought me in a state of 
" single blessedness." 

"The colleen bawn," said she, using the favorite 
expression of the gallant O'Neil, "has just informed 
me that you" — her remark was addressed to me — 
" intend to leave the ship at Londonderry, and 
become the guest, for a time, of her uncle." 

"I propose to enter Ireland at that point," I 
replied, "but the brief time I remain will be spent in 
wandering about the country, seeing whatever is to 
be seen in so short a period. As to the rest, O'Neil 
has invited me to go with him to the house of his 
friend, and afterwards to visit himself at his home in 
Downpatrick." 

" And your friend ? " said the widow, alluding to 
Bachelor. 

" He goes on to Glasgow, where I hope to join him 
within a week," I replied. 

" In that case, gentlemen, 1 ' said she, now address- 
ing both of us, " I may have the pleasure of meeting 
you again, as I shall there wait the arrival of my 



COASTWISE. 103 

brother, who resides in the town of Dalkeith, a few 
miles from Edinburgh. When you visit that city, 
sometimes called, by reason of its superior educa- 
tional advantages, ' the modern Athens, 1 you will 
find Dalkeith a pleasant place to sojourn for a few 
days, while you take a look at some of the most 
noted objects in the south of Scotland — Hawthornden, 
the classical habitation of the poet Drummond, the 
friend of Shakspeare and Jonson ; the cottage near 
Lasswade, where Sir Walter Scott spent some of the 
happiest years of his life : Melville Castle, Dalkeith 
Palace, Newbattle Abbey, Dalhousie Castle, Hough- 
ton House, and the castles of Borthwick and Crichton; 
the vale and chapel of Roslin, and the mouldering 
ruin of Roslin Castle, the origin of which is involved 
in obscurity — all of which are in the immediate 
vicinity. My brother is a man of unusual hospitality, 
who will be only too glad to welcome any friends of 
his sister ; and being a man of remarkable curiosity, 
he will be delighted with the novelty of meeting two 
American gentlemen with a wife and two children." 
There was a twinkle of pleasure in her eye as she 
uttered the last sentence, with emphasis on the 
words italicized; but before either Bachelor or I 
could utter a word in answer, she extended her pretty 
little dimpled hand and bade me good-bye, with her 
best wishes for a pleasant ramble in Hibernia. 



104 benedict's wanderings. 

As she walked away to join Mrs. Gabler and 
daughter, to whom Mrs. Barrington was pointing out 
Downhill Castle, near the mouth of Lough Foyle, 
Bachelor turned to me and inquired, with an innocent 
expression of countenance, "What did she mean, Ben?" 

Looking at him intently for a moment, while the 
hot blood mounted to his temples, I replied, " Indeed, 
I have not the least idea. 1 ' 

Doubtful of my candor, he watched me for a 
moment, and then exclaimed, as if moved by a sudden 
thought, " 0, Ben ! as you will be gone but a week, 
suppose you let me take the photographs of Mrs. 
Ben and the babies until we meet again at Greenock 
or Glasgow? " 

"Not on any account," said I quickly, as if 
startled by the proposition. " They are my guardian 
angels. Should I be drowned in Lough Neagh or 
precipitated over some precipice in the Giant's Cause- 
way, they must be found next my heart and be laid 
with me in the grave." And then I added, curi- 
ously, "What do you want with them? " 

"0, nothing! only, I thought, that, perhaps'" — 
he began, a little confused ; but recovering himself, 
continued — " if you should find Erin specially attrac- 
tive, and be tempted to prolong your stay, the fear 
of a wider separation from them might induce greater 
punctuality. 11 



Coastwise. 105 

" It would, undoubtedly," I replied. " But you 
need have no apprehension; I shall keep my engage- 
ment. 1 ' 

Availing myself of a chance opportunity, shortly 
before we reached the port of Londonderry, I whis- 
pered to the winsome w dow: " After I have left the 
ship, besureandask my friend Bachelor — and if he 

■: look again at the 
phs of hit •'■ ildren." 



=-s»aS; 




CHAPTER II. 



IN PORT. 



(i™W|pS we approached the entrance to Lough Foyle 
ISll. a beautiful estuary about eighteen miles in 
r^|^ length, the most prominent object in view- 
was Downhill Castle, the residence of Sir Harvey 
Bruce. It stands on the right shore of the lake, on 
an elevated site, from which may be obtained one of 
the grandest views in the country, embracing a con- 
siderable portion of the county Donegal, and extend- 
ing far out to ocean. It is an immense edifice, 
and presents a most imposing appearance, viewed 
from any point, particularly from the entrance to the 
estuary. It is especially noted for the number of its 
windows, of which it is said to contain no less than 
three hundred and sixty-four — more than any other 
castle in Ireland. 

" Altogether,' 1 said Mrs. Barrington, who had 
described the edifice to Mrs. G-abler and others 
gathered about her, " it is one of the most beautiful 
and majestic structures in the whole country." 



IN POKT. 107 

"It is a gaudy, glittering, glass house," said 
O'Neil, contemptuously, when she had finished her 
description. " The boys of Derry could batter it 
down with stones. It is nothing compared with the 
old castles. Look, for instance, at that ruin on the 
other side of the Foyle." 

He pointed to the remains of the walls and turrets 
of an old stone edifice known as Green Castle, a 
modern name, suggested by the appearance of the 
crumbling pile, which is covered with green ivy. 
That it was a fortress constructed for defence against 
a powerful foe, is evident from the strength of the 
remains ; but of its origin nothing whatever is known 
— its history is lost in antiquity. 

" I have none of that vain and useless veneration, 
which you in common with so many others, cast 
around the works of long-buried hands," said Mrs. 
Barrington. " That old castle may have been built 

for the protection of pa /' she was about to say 

"papacy", but out of respect to O'Neil, changed it to 
— " paganism." 

O'Neil, discerning her delicacy, made no reply, 
though a sharp one was at the end of his tongue. 
Instead, he directed my attention to the ruins of an 
old fort farther down the shore, and nearer the 
entrance to the lake. It had been a stone structure, 



108 benedict's wanderings. 

seemingly of great strength, but was then in a very 
dilapidated condition. 

" Whether an outwork of the old castle," said he, 
" is not known ; some think it so, and some regard 
it as a modern structure. It is probably the latter, 
and may have been constructed as a defence to the 
Foyle ; the position it occupies would seem to favor 
that inference." 

This old fortification is known at the present day 
as Gilligan Fort, a name derived, it is said, from the 
present or some former owner. The castle is the 
property of two sisters, the Misses Chaster, but is 
only valuable as an antiquated ruin. 

It was nearly noon when the ship arrived at 
Moville, sometimes called the port of Londonderry, 
from which it is distant about eighteen miles. It is 
a small market town and parish, containing nearly 
six hundred inhabitants. Seen from the vessel it had 
the appearance of a collection of thatched huts, of an 
inferior quality. It is a place of little importance, 
though during the summer steam vessels of small 
size ply to Londonderry. 

At this point three or four passengers left the ship, 
and among the rest Donald Dinnie. But whether 
the latter went ashore of " his own free will and 
accord," or in fear lest the threat of the captain 
would be put into execution, no one knew unless it 



IN PORT. 109 

was Sandy Stewart, to whose care he entrusted his 
baggage. But Stewart was silent as the grave on the 
subject, and the curious were left to their own con- 
jectures. 

On reaching the shore Dinnie turned about sud- 
denly, and surveyed the ship for a moment, with 
a savage scowl upon his countenance. Presently 
he raised his finger in a menacing manner, shook 
it defiantly at some one on board, then turned again 
and stalked away, with his many medals glittering in 
the sun, like an Indian chief who has hurled a declar- 
ation of war in the face of his foe. 

It was not very manifest whether the menace was 
meant for Captain Small, who was quietly observing 
the discharge of the mails for Londonderry and the 
transfer of passengers to the little steamer alongside, 
or for Bachelor, who was standing by the side of " the 
ship's beauty," engaged with her in conversation. I 
thinkit was designed for the latter, who could not forego 
the opportunity to triumph over his discomfited rival. 

Evidently Dr. Gabler regarded the departure of the 

giant with satisfaction, while Mnsgrave, a little apart 

but within hearing, repeated the lines from Macbeth 

by way of soliloquy: 

" A poor player, 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing." 



110 benedict's wanderings. 

Dr. Gabler was the centre of a little group, of which 
his wife and daughter, Mrs. Small and daughter, and 
Mrs. Barrington were the principal personages. They 
were watching the debarkation of Dinnie, and com- 
menting upon his character. But upon hearing these 
words of Shakespeare repeated, there was sudden 
silence. 

All present turned their eyes upon the young man, 
who now advanced, and extending his hand to the 
doctor, said : " As we are about to part, allow me to 
bid you good-bye, and wish you a pleasant and pros- 
perous tour, a safe return with improved health and 
spirits, and money enough to build a handsome 
church for Pemberton. Ladies, farewell ! ' ' 

Having uttered these words as it were in a breath, 
he turned about suddenly, walked quickly away, and 
passed over the side of the ship to the deck of the 
little steamer. 

Quick as they were spoken, however, he had man- 
aged to cast a furtive glance at Miss Gabler as he 
pronounced the name of Pemberton. The fair face 
of the young lady turned suddenly to crimson ; it 
was the name of her betrothed. 

The allusion, though delicately made, could not be 
mistaken. The young man was possessed of infor- 
mation, thought by the reverend doctor to be a secret 
of his and his friends. In what way had it come 



In port. Ill 

to his knowledge ? He might have puzzled his 
brain over this question, had he not observed, at that 
moment, the heightened color of his daughter. 
" Bella," said he, " who is that young man ? " 

" Until this moment," replied the blushing Ara- 
bella, " I had not a suspicion. He was called John 
Smith, and I supposed that was his name ; but now 
I think it is Harry Musgrave." 

"Impossible ! " exclaimed the divine. " The rosy, 
rollicking Harry, such a skeleton ! such a shadow ! 

And yet, I remember ." But without finishing 

the remark, he walked over to the side of the ship 
next the little steamer, and called to the young man : 
" Harry, I am sorry you did not make yourself known 
to me." 

"Pardon me, doctor," said Musgrave, looking up 
smilingly from the deck of the little steamer. " But 
inasmuch as you regret it, I shall do so the next 
time we meet." 

" The same frolicsome fellow ! ' ' soliloquized the 
divine, going back in memory to the childhood of the 
young man. " But how pale, how very pale and 
emaciated ! Poor fellow ! I fear he is soon to enter 
the valley of the shadow of death." Then to Mus- 
grave — " Good-bye, Harry ! May the Lord, in his 
infinite mercy, protect you in this life, and prepare 
you for the life that is to come, eternal in the 
Heavens ! " 



CHAPTER III. 



ADIEUS. 




jOW the time had come when I must bid 
| adieu to all my ship acquaintances — all, at 
*■»! least, who were on the deck. Had I been a 
vain man the scene that followed must have been 
most gratifying. All the passengers flocked about 
me, as though I had been a personage of distinction, 
and it was accounted an honor to take me by the 
hand at parting. The truth is, very many people, — 
most Americans, indeed, — when they go abroad, wrap 
themselves up in their selfishness, and utterly ignore 
all others' rights and privileges. The secret of my 
popularity was, that I had made myself reasonably 
agreeable, at no very great expenditure of personal 
politeness — a word here, a joke there, and occasion- 
ally, where it could be duly appreciated, a look at the 
sun in the morning through rny Bourbon telescope. 

The captain was cordial ; indeed, for a Scotchman, 
he was demonstrative. He invited me to visit him at 
his house in Glasgow, and said his wife would never 



ADIEUS. 113 

forgive me if I declined. Mrs. Small not only 
seconded the invitation, but paid me so many flatter- 
ing compliments, that I actually blushed — the first 
and only time in my life that I yielded to such a 
weakness. She concluded with — " Of all the Ameri- 
cans I have met, none have made themselves so 
agreeable to me as you and your companion." Her 
allusion to Bachelor caused a rush of blood to the 
faces of Miss Debbie and the surgeon — hers of pleas- 
ure, his of anger. I congratulated the young lady on 
her recovery, but her manner was constrained ; I 
think she suspected me of being the indirect cause of 
the prolongation of her sea-sickness. Not so the 
surgeon, who glowed with fervor, assuring me that, 
as long as he lived, he would remember me with joy 
in his heart. 

The Kev. Dr. G-abler, in bidding me good-bye, 
expressed the hope that we might meet again in our 
travels, and after our return to America. Then tak- 
ing me aside, he said in an undertone : " You have 
observed the young man known among the passen- 
gers as John Smith ? " " Yes/' I replied. " Well," 
s;iid he, " that is an assumed name, but for what 
purpose I can not imagine.' ' I did not enlighten 
him. " No matter," he continued. " His real name 
is Harry Musgrave. His father w T as an old parishioner 
of mine, and a zealous member of the church; him- 



114 benedict's wanderings. 

self was the brightest scholar in the Sunday school. 
I have heard that, through incessant overwork, he has 
damaged his health seriously, if not, as I fear, fatally. 
And now, sir, I have a favor to ask, as the fast friend 
of his father, and in the name of humanity, that so 
long as you and he may travel the same route, you 
will extend over him your care and protection ? " I 
readily and cheerfully gave the promise. 

As a people, in all the world there are none better 
than the English ; but as individuals, they are too 
much like their American progeny, selfish, taciturn, 
and discontented. Of course I have reference to 
first acquaintance, for after the ice is once thawed, the 
Englishman is a most agreeable companion. Such 
was the case with John Marshall, and I may also 
include Mrs. Marshall. They invited me to visit 
them at their future home in old Leeds — the Marshall 
homestead ; indeed, they exacted of me a promise 
that, if I set foot in England, I should spend at least 
a week under their roof ; and I trust there is a time 
in the future, when I shall have it in my power 
to accept their invitation and partake of their hospi- 
tality. 

The Countess di Lavarello, after a short survey of 
the surrounding prospect, had returned to the saloon, 
the sight of the water having occasioned a relapse 
into her sea-sickness. But the Count, who remained 



ADIEUS. 115 

on deck to witness the departure of the passengers for 
Londonderry, came forward and bade me " Adieu ! " 
adding in his broken English, that he should sojourn 
with his brother in Edinburgh until my arrival, as he 
desired the pleasure of my company on the voyage to 
Italy. I was the more gratified with this assurance, 
as we had not exchanged a dozen sentences during the 
voyage beyond the customary salutations. 

In parting with Bachelor, I had a mind to upbraid 
him for his desertion ; but he expressed his regrets 
with so much emotion that I was completely disarmed. 
I was obliged to content myself with a renewal of the 
warning I had given him, against the lavishment of 
his love upon women by whom it would not be 
appreciated. At the same time, I hinted as delicately 
as I could, that I thought Dalkeith a better place to 
spend the week I should be in Ireland than either 
Glasgow or Inverness. Laying his hand above his 
heart, and "sighing like furnace," he replied, tragi- 
cally, " I go where duty calls. 11 

Mary MacGrill had walked aside while I conversed 
with Bachelor, but now she came back, and laying her 
pretty white hand in mine, said in an undertone : 
"When you know me better, you will entertain for 
me a more exalted opinion. 11 I was disconcerted, but 
assured her, as well as I could, that I thought her 
beautiful, as beautiful as a houri. "But I am not a 



116 benedict's wanderings. 

houri," she replied. "And," I added, "as good as 
you are beautiful. 11 " Prettily said," said she, 
" and if it came from the heart, instead of the 
lips, I should be delighted.' 1 I was about to protest 
my sincerity, when she continued, "You think me — " 
then paused, as if to weigh again the words she was 
going to utter ; and I completed the sentence, archly, 
— " an unsafe person to leave my friend with.' 1 
"Yes," said she, "that will suffice. But you do 
your friend a very great injustice ; he is not a novice." 
" Certainly not," said I ; " but there are wiles against 
which even a wider experience — " "0!" she ex- 
claimed, with mock deference, "you give me credit 
for powers I do not possess." Then she continued, in 
a tone of earnestness, " Would you do me a favor ? " 
"With the greatest pleasure, 1 ' I replied. "Then 
leave this vessel with the belief, that ' I am that I am, 1 
a sincere woman." 

I began to think that she was, and that a part of 
her sincerity was to capture the poor Bachelor. 
That he could resist such beauty, backed by so 
much wit and wisdom, short of a miracle, seemed to 
me impossible. Yet there was one chance which T 
sought to secure in his favor. The woman of Inver- 
ness, in whose care Mary had been placed for the 
voyage, a prudent person and the friend of her 
mother, might prevent any entanglement of the affec- 



ADIEUS. 



117 



tions, if duly notified. I went up to her and said, 
after what I thought a suitable introduction, that 
young people, if left too much to themselves, were 
apt to form undue attachments. She turned upon me 
sharply, " Gin ye hae ony fear o' the lad, tak him wi' 
ye ; I hae nane o' Mary. 1 ' 



CHAPTER IV. 



• 
INCIDENTS. 




|N passing from the ship to the little steamer, 
the foot of Mrs. Barrington sliped, and had it 
W not been for my timely assistance, she must 
have received a very severe fall. She thanked me on 
the spot, in a most cordial manner, and said it was 
gratifying to her heart to know that she was not in- 
debted for her perservation to an infidel. And it was 
gratifying to mine, this allusion to the trick of Bach- 
elor, as it went to show that the truth in the case had 
been discovered. 

In my experience, I have fully realized that kind 
services seldom go unrewarded. It was my good for- 
tune, in this instance, to lay the foundation for vol- 
untary acts of good will, which I had no reason to ex- 
pect. These were preceded by an invitation from 
Mrs. Barrington, extended on our way to London- 
derry, to make my home at her house while I re- 
mained in Belfast. " For," said she, " now that you 



INCIDENTS. 119 

are in Ireland, you will not depart without having 
visited the city that is first in financial prosperity, 
and the source and center of nearly every important 
moral and religious reformation." 

I had scarcely reached the deck of the little 
steamer, — after having rendered Mrs. Barrington the 
service mentioned, — when Tom Tackle, the young 
sailor who, in a moment of thoughtlessness, had set 
the cat on fire, was led forth from his place of con- 
finement, to be sent ashore at Moville. During 
the voyage he had been confined, and now he was ,, 
discharged without consideration. 

He was a most pitiable object ! I had observed 
him the day we set sail, and afterwards on several 
occasions ; he was then neat and clean in his person 
and apparel ; now he was black and dirty as the 
firemen. Then he was hale and ruddy, and now he 
was pale and wasted to a skeleton, looking as though 
he had not tasted food since the day of his disgrace. 
As he dropped into the boat, I heard him exclaim, 
sadly, "Adrift without a dollar !" 

Never before had words fallen with so much force 
upon my ear. Here was a countryman of my own, a 
mere youth, a stranger in a strange land, without the 
■means wherewith to keep himself from starvation. 
He was not near enough for me to address him in an 
ordinary conversational tone, and the little steamer 



120 benedict's wanderings. 

was about to leave the ship ; yet I could not forsake 
him, without an effort to alleviate his suffering condi- 
tion. 

In my pocket I had an apple, brought from the 
lunch table, and into it I pressed a brace of sovereigns, 
and then called to him : u Tom ! Tom Tackle !" 

The poor fellow raised his head, and looked at me 
s through his tears, wonders truck at the sound of a 
kind voice. 

" Here, is a penny for luck," said I, holding the 
apple in view. " Can you catch ?" 

He raised his hands, and when I pitched the apple, 
caught it with the dexterity of a professional ball- 
1 player. Crushing it between his knees, he extracted 
the sovereigns, for which he thanked me, and then de- 
voured the fruit, like a man at the verge of starva- 
tion. 




§§<Jt€>-o- 



CHAPTER V. 



UP THE FOYLE. 



flf% LMOST from the very entrance of Lough 
(/ ^!|l Foyle, the shore was thickly studded with 
if&SJK| snug little cottages, some of which, fronting 
the water, presented a very pretty appearance. Here 
and there was a house of more pretentions, though 
none of much magnitude, or of very costly construc- 
tion. The grounds of the cottages were generally 
clean and cultivated, in many places down to the 
edge of the water. Beyond the coast, up the sloping 
hill-sides, could he seen the numerous narrow fields 
and the thatched homes of the husbandmen. Far- 
ther away, in nearly every direction, hamlets and 
villages dotted and diversified the landscape. Alto- 
gether, with the trees and shrubs arrayed in their 
gorgeous autumnal costume of gold and crimson 
hues, it was one of the pleasantest prospects I beheld 
in the north of Ireland. 
The prettiest of these cottages was particularly 



122 benedict's wanderings. 

brought to my notice by O'Neil. It was the home of 
one who, in early life, had come to the United States, 
and through naturalization become an American citi- 
zen. In the course of time he acquired a large for- 
tune, then returned and purchased the place of his 
birth. This he adorned in nearly every way of 
which it was capable, beginning with the cottage 
which he enlarged and otherwise improved. In the 
midst of a lawn, which extended In the shore, slop- 
ing gently and gradually, there was a bubbling foun- 
tain, of sparkling water, which, after supplying an 
acquarium, meandered among flowering shrubs down 
to the lake. There were winding walks, shaded with 
evergreen trees, leading in various directions, one of 
which went down to the shore, and along the edge of 
the water, gravelled with glittering stones that daz- 
zled the eye in the sunshine. There were also other 
objects of interest and beauty, which could only be 
appreciated upon a closer observation. 

At the mouth of the river, five miles below the 
city, I observed that the cottages were more numer- 
ous, and many of them of better appearance. They 
continued to increase in number as we ascended the 
river, until at length it became difficult to distin- 
guish the country from the city. The latter is sit- 
uated on an oval-shaped hill, about a hundred and 
twenty feet above high water, the buildings rising 



UP THE FOTLE. 123 

tier above tier in a manner exceedingly picturesque. 
Some of the public buildings and ecclesiastical struct- 
ures are distinguishable as we ascend the river, but 
at so great a distance cannot be seen with benefit or 
satisfaction. 

Over the river there is a wooden bridge, a thousand 
and sixty-eight feet in length, which connects the 
city with a large suburb on the opposite bank, called 
the Waterside. It was erected in the year 1789, by 
Daniel Coxe, of Boston, Massachusetts. This stu- 
pendous structure, to all strangers an object of inter- 
est, was to me a matter of pride as well, regarded as 
the work of a fellow countryman. As the grandeur 
of its appearance could be observed to best advan- 
tage in ascending the river, I did not allow it to es- 
cape the notice of the passengers. 

"0, yes/' said O'Neil, "it is magnificent. And 
are ye knowing to the fact that it was put there by 
an American ?" 

" Assuredly," I replied ; " and I may as well con- 
fess it, it was that fact which led me to speak of its 
grandeur." 

"I thought so," said he. " Yet I do not object; 
it is right. But I call your attention to it, that you 
may not think me singular in my egotism, when I 
come to boast of my own royal ancestors." 

Of the passengers on the little steamer ; some 



124 Benedict's wanderings. 

were returning home to visit their parents, and pro- 
vide for their greater comfort ; others, who had ac- 
cumulated a competence, to spend the remnant of 
their days in the homes of their childhood ; and a 
few (lazy fellows, no doubt,) in supreme disgust of 
everything American, having failed to find the 
bushes on which the golden dollars grow like hazel- 
nuts. On the shore, their friends were waiting to 
receive them, in great numbers, with smiling faces, 
words of good cheer, and hearty embraces. The 
scene that followed, was characterized by such mani- 
festations of joy as I had never before witnessed. 

O'Neil directed my attention to a man of gentle- 
manly appearance, who stood a little beyond the 
throng, waiting an opportunity to enter the vessel. 
He was a tall man, straight and slender, with iron- 
gray hair, and face somewhat wrinkled with the 
winds of sixty winters — O'Neil's was soft and smooth 
with the sunshine of sixty summers. They had been 
students together, gay boys alike, but in after years 
while the latter quaffed from " the golden bowl" of 
health and happiness, the other had " drained the 
cup of sorrow/' 

Phelin O'Keeffe — such was the name of the " fine, 
ould Irish gintleman" of Londonderry — leaning upon 
his staff, " still as a statue," had an austere aspect 
and an imperious bearing ; observing which, I pitied 






UP THE FOYLE. 125 

the gentle Nora. He was surveying the people on 
the deck of the vessel, and scanning every countenance. 
Presently he descried O'Neil, and the harsh features 
(a good thing for Nora, I thought,) relaxed into 
a broad smile, and the statue " lived and moved." 
It seemed but a twinkling before his strong arms 
clasped the lovely girl to his breast, and hers en- 
circled his neck, while their lips met and their tears 
mingled. 

It was an affecting scene, though not unpleasant 
to behold ; but O'Neil, passing his arm through 
mine, turned away toward the Waterside. " Let us 
leave them to themselves,' 1 he said. "Where they 
meet now, they parted years ago. She was then a 
little girl, standing between her father and mother ; 
and he was a younger man, with raven locks, sur- 
rounded by his wife and three brave boys ; but these 
are all the scythe of time has spared. There is a great 
sorrow upon them, but now it will soften with their 
tears." 

After a few minutes, Mr. O'Keeffe, with his niece 
(1 henceforth to be his daughter) on his arm, came 
over to where we were standing, and greeted his 
friend in a most cordial manner. A little lively chat 
ensued, lasting a minute or so, and in the meanwhile 
Miss Nora and I followed their example. Then 
O'Neil introduced me to O'Keeffe, remarking that I 



126 

was the best American that he had ever met, and one 
who understood a new and beautiful system of as- 
tronomy. My reception was of the heartiest charac- 
ter, and never in my life was I made more welcome 
in any man's habitation. 

Before leaving the vessel, Mrs. Barring-ton bade us 
all adieu. To O'Neil she said : " Wide as our views 
differ in some respects, the world is wide enough for 
us to dwell in in peace ; let us hope that Heaven is 
not more circumscribed.''' "Amen !" said O'Neil. 

All this while no one had paid any attention to 
Musgrave, who lingered near the gang-way, doubtful 
what course to pursue, mentally repeating those mel- 
ancholy lines of Erin's sweetest bard — 

" I feel like one 

Who treads alone 
Some banquet hall deserted, 

Whose lights are tied, 

Whose garlands dead, 
And all but he departed." 

Remembering the promise I had made to Dr. Ga- 
bler, I asked O'Neil to introduce my friend to his 
friend. Said O'Neil, looking at the young man 
askance: "He'll not live six months, but in half 
that time he'll win the heart of the ' colleen bawn/ 
and crush it in his death." " Have no fear,' 1 I re- 
plied. " We shall be in Ireland but a week, and in 
another week shall be forgotten." I was sorry the 



trp The foyle. 127 

moment these words were uttered, for they hurt 
O'Neil. 

In presenting Musgrave, he styled him " the friend 
ot my friend Benedict," hut paid a pretty compli- 
ment to his intellectual brilliancy ; and was rewarded 
for his civility, by as sweet a smile as ever wreathed 
the rosy lips of th<; " colleen bawn !" 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE WALLED CITY. 



A 



^\ } T the present day, the only walled city in 
k Ireland is Londonderry, or more properly 
r J^1f$> Derry, the older part of the city, which is 
surrounded by a wall about 'a mile in circuit. 
Drogheda was formerly enclosed with walls, some re- 
mains of which still exist, though in a crumbling 
condition. There was a time when " The sweet city 
o' Cork,' 1 as it is called by the native citizens ; was 
also a walled city ; and it was thus described in the 
year 1600, by Camden : " Enclosed within a circuit 
of walls in the form of an egg, with the river flowing 
around it, and running between, not passing through 
but by bridges, lying out in length, as it were, in one 
direct broad street, and the same having a bridge over 
it !" About ninety years afterwards, the place was 
beseiged by the Earl of Marlborough (afterwards 
Duke,) and partially destroyed, and from that time for- 
ward the fortifications gradually decayed, until at 
length they were replaced by useful buildings. But the 



130 



benedict's wanderings. 



wall around ancient Deny has remained intact, and 
now forms an agreeable and fashionable promenade. 
In this wall are four great gates, at equal distances 




OATE OP LONDONDERRY. 



apart, which open into the four principal streets of 
the city, each leading to a square in the center, 
called the Diamond. To reach the residence of 
O'Keeffe, in the suburb on the opposite side of the 



THE WALLED CITY. 131 

city, we passed through two of these gates, two of 
these streets, and the square, and were afforded a fine 
opportunity for observing the attractions of the city. 
As we advanced, O'Keeffe pointed out the principal 
objects of interest, as the corporation hall, court 
house, jail, custom house, lunatic asylum, and Foyle 
College, of the public buildings ; a Doric column, 
surmounted by a statue, erected in memory of Rev. 
George Walker, the intrepid governor of the city dur- 
ing the memorable seige in 1689 ; the Cathedral of 
the see of Derry, first erected in 1633, by Sir John 
Vaughan, and the Bishop's Palace. 

It was nearly a furlong beyond the wall to the resi- 
dence of O'Keeffe, which stood on an elevated spot, 
and commanded a tine view of the city and surround- 
ing country. It was an old stone structure, of con- 
siderable size, with spacious apartments, formerly the 
residence of a leading man in one of the London com- 
panies, or as they were sometimes called, the " Irish 
Society/ 1 This association consisted of twelve com- 
panies of the city of London, to whom James I. 
granted the entire county of Derry, confiscated to 
the Crown after the rebellion of Con O'Neil, the last 
chief of Castlereah. By these companies the county 
was colonized with English, and the name changed 
by the prefix of Luiulon to Derry, which it still re- 



132 Benedict's wanderings. 

tains, though I observed that my friend O'Neil al- 
ways said Derry. 

After a lunch, which was quickly served and 
quickly despatched, Miss Nora, Musgrave and my- 
self took a stroll through the city, along the prome- 
nade and in the mall of the Diamond. It was at au 
hour when the people usually walk for health and 
amusement, and we enjoyed a favorable opportunity 
to behold the beauty and fashion of the city, as also 
a closer and more satisfactory view of the public and 
ecclesiastical edifices. 

In the year 1736, Lord Orrery, in a letter to Dean 
Swift, drew the following woeful picture of Cork : 
" The butchers are as greasy, the Quakers as for- 
mal, the Presbyterians as holy and as full of the 
Lord as ever ; all things are in statu quo: even the 
hogs and pigs grunt in the same cadence as of yore, 
unfurnished with variety, and drooping under the 
natural dullness of the place ; materials for a letter 
are as hard to be found as money, sense, honesty, or 
truth ;" and a modern writer, an Irishman at that, 
speaks of this picture as " a description which would 
now-a-days be applicable to no town in Ireland but 
Derry." 

It did not occur to me at the time I was there, or 
since, that this description is in the least applicable 
to Londonderry. The four principal streets are wide, 



THE WALLED CITY. 133 

well built, and elegant in appearance ; the other 
streets, though narrower, and some of them very steep, 
are paved and lighted with gas. There is an air of 
thrift about the place, which supports three or four 
newspapers, several branch banks, mills for spinning 
flax, flour mills, distilleries, breweries, roperies, foun- 
dries, tanneries, a ship-yard, and regular communica- 
tion, by steamers, with Liverpool, Glasgow, Grenock, 
and Campbelton. 

After sauntering for half an hour in the mall and 
promenade, we took a closer survey of the fluted col- 
umn erected in honor of Governor Walker, who suc- 
cessfully defended the ci fcy during a seige of one hun- 
dred and five days by the forces of King James II. ; 
and then we visited the Bishop's Palace and the 
Cathedral, which, in size and style and splendor, are 
the principal edifices. The latter is a Gothic struc- 
ture, from the top of which we obtained an excellent 
view of the city and its surroundings. In this build- 
ing is a handsome monument, erected to the memory 
of Bishop Knox ; and in it also are preserved the 
colors taken at the seige of Deny, the most memora- 
ble incident in the history of the city. It was with no 
ordinary interest that we looked upon these banners, 
under which brave men fought and fell nearly two cen- 
turies ago, in a cause which (is it not reasonable to 
presume ?) they at least thought to be just and holy. 



134 benedict's wanderings. 

The seige came about in this manner. The Earl 
of Mount Alexander, a Protestant nobleman, received 
information through an anonymous letter, that on a 
certain day all the Protestants in Ireland were to be 
murdered by the Catholics. He gave the alarm, 
which spread to Deny, and completely bewildered 
the citizens, except some dozen apprentices, who at- 
tacked and overpowered the guard, seized the keys, 
and secured the Ferry Gate, just as it was reached by 
the troops of Lord Antrim. During the seige, the 
citizens were reduced to the extremity of eating dogs 
and rats, and it is estimated that over two thousand 
perished by famine. The besiegers placed a boom 
across the river to prevent supplies reaching the city, 
but one of the supply frigates, under the command of 
Admiral Kirk, with all sails spread, dashed against 
the barrier and broke it in twain, and thereby the 
city was saved. 

" Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
Had in her sober livery all things clad ;" 

reminding us that it was the hour appointed by 
O'Keefle for the service of that day's dinner. We 
hastened back, and being in time for grace, avoided 
disgrace. The dinner was plain and modest, but ex- 
cellent ; and it was highly spiced with lively conver- 
sation, to which Father McQuinlan, the parish priest, 
largely contributed. During the meal an excursion 



THE WALLED CITY. 135 

was planed for the next day, to Lough Erne, near 
Enniskillen. After the cloth was removed, (Miss 
Nora having withdrawn to the parlor,) O'Keeffe 
placed in the center of the table, a bottle of 
" poteen" — a mild beverage very popular in that 
country, and commendable for its purity. A number 
of toasts complimentary to host and guests having 
been drank, Musgrave proposed the following as an 
infallible criterion for ascertaining a true Irishman : 

"By Mac and O 

You'll always know 
True Irishmen, they say ; 

For, if they lack, 

Both O and Mac, 
No Irishmen are they." 

As every one present (he and I excepted) was an 
or a Mac, it was received with uprorious approbation. 
Being in rhyme, it reminded O'Neil of a song he had 
heard the "colleen bawn 1 ' sing during the voyage; 
and we all adjourned to the parlor that he might 
hear it repeated. Song after song ensued until bed- 
time, Nora singing the oftenest and the best, in 
strains so sweet that they still linger in my memory. 



1 



fM\h 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE EXCURSION. 

HE little time I had to spend in Ireland, ren- 
dered it necessary that I should confine my 
^J^m wanderings to the province of Ulster, and 
chiefly to the line of railway extending from London- 
derry to Belfast. But within that comparatively 
circumscribed compass, may be seen many of the 
most interesting objects in the kingdom, including 
the ruins of ancient churches and castles, and that 
celebrated basaltic formation, one of the greatest 
natural curiosities of the old world, known as the 
Giant's Causeway. 

The object of our excursion to Lough Erne, was to 
behold the picturesque scenery of the lakes, and the 
ruins of Devenish Island, including the round tower, 
said to be the most beautiful in Ireland. Our party 
was the same as the dinner party of the night before, 
including Father McQuinlan, 

" A little round, fat, oily man of God," 



THE EXCURSION. 137 

who enjoyed the reputation of being the most learned 
antiquarian north of Dublin. Provided with a bas- 
ket of eatables aDd a bottle of poteen, we left Deny 
in an early train, having a carriage to ourselves ; and 
while O'Keeffe and O'Neil went over the reminiscen- 
ces of their college days, Father McQuinlan and 1 
talked of the country through which we were passing, 
and Musgrave and Nora made love in the corner. 

About fourteen miles from Derry, we reached 
Strabane, a municipal borough and market town of 
county Tyrone, situated on the Mourne, near its con- 
fluence with the Finn and Foyle, and immediately 
opposite Lifford, the capital of County Donegal. I 
was sorry that it was not in my power to make a di- 
version at this point as far as Lough Derg, a beauti- 
ful lake about nine miles in circumference, containing 
the famous islet of St. Patrick's Purgatory, which is 
said to be visited annually by eighteen thousand 
devotees. But for the fear of giving offence, I should 
have questioned the " oily man of God'' in reference 
to the spiritual benefits to be derived from this pil- 
grimage. 

I also regretted that I could not spend a day in 
Tyrone, of which the O'Neils, (the principal branch 
of the family,) were chiefs down to the memorable 
rebellion of Hugh O'Neil, in the year 1597, known as 
the "Tyrone Rebellion/' which constitutes an inter- 



138 benedict's wanderings. 

esting page in Irish history. At Omagh, the capital 
of the county, there are the remains of an old castle, 
from which the town derives its name. It was prob- 
ably a fortified residence of the usual class erected by 
the first Scotch setlers in the country, under the regu- 
lations for the " Plantation of Ulster,"' which required 
"every undertaker of two thousand acres within two 
years after the date of his letters patent, to build 
himself a castle, with a strong court or bawn 
about it." The principal edifice of Omagh is the 
county court-house, an elegant structure in the 
Grecian style of architecture, which, as it stands on a 
steep acclivity, presents an imposing appearance. 
The town is small, the number of inhabitants being 
about three thousand ; but it has been twice de- 
stroyed by fire, first in 1689, and again in 1743. 

We left the train at Enniskillen, the capital of 
Farmanagh, another of the six counties included in 
the famous scheme of James I., for the " Plantation of 
Ulster," which included five counties of that prov- 
ince beside Londonderry. This county abounds in 
lakes, and was called, in the Irish tongue, Feor-magh- 
canagh, " the Country of the Lakes." In the reign 
of Elizabeth, it was held by two powerful septs — the 
MacManuses and the MacG-uires — between whom it 
was divided. Being then in a very unsettled 
state, — as may be inferred from the following anec- 



THE EXCURSION. 139 

dote of a chieftain of the latter clan, — it was made 
shire ground, with a view to its proper civilization. 
When the lord-deputy gave him notice that he was 
about to send a sheriff into his territory. MacGuire 
answered, that "her majesty's officer would be re- 
ceived ; but, at the same time, he desired to know 
his eric — the fine to be imposed upon his murderer, 
in order that, if he happened to be slain by his fol- 
lowers, the amount might be levied on the offender's 
chattels.' ' 

The plan of our excursion embraced a drive along 
the southern shore of the Erne, both the upper and 
lower lakes, and a sail to Devenish Island, in the or- 
der here mentioned. Having engaged a couple of 
jaunting cars, our party took a stroll through the 
town while the vehicles were being got in readiness. 
Enniskillen is well built, mostly on an island in 
Lough Erne, and contains a county court-house, jail, 
and town-hall, and nearly six thousand inhabitants. 
It was founded in 1641, by Sir William Cole, to 
whose family it still mostly belongs, and now gives 
the title of earl. The inhabitants warmly supported 
the Protestant cause in 1689, successfully defended 
the town against the forces of King James, and the 
year afterwards distinguished themselves at the battle 
of the Boyne. 

The place where this celebrated battle was fought, 



140 benedict's wanderings. 

between the forces of James II. and his son-in-law, 
William, prince of Orange, (afterwards William III.) 
on the banks of the Boyne, between two and three 
miles from Drogheda, is now marked by a lofty obelisk. 
It will be remembered that this engagement, though 
the contending forces were equal, there being thirty 
thousand on a side, resulted in the utter overthrow 
of King James, who fled to Fiance. Kohl says that, 
in this memorable battle, he displayed but little 
courage, abandoned the field even before the battle 
was decided, and made a ride of unexampled rapidity 
through Ireland. He sought to throw the blame of 
the whole defeat on the Irish, and exclaimed to Lady 
Tyrconnel, a woman of ready wit, whom he met 
at the castle of Dublin : " Your countrymen, the 
Irish, can run very fast, it must be owned." The 
lady replied, with a well merited rebuke : " In this, 
as in every other respect, your majesty surpasses 
them, for you have won the race. 1 '' 

The gallant regiment known as the " Enniskillen 
Dragoons," was formed from the survivors in this 
great engagement. They were then denominated the 
" Enniskilliners," and in the city hall are still pre- 
served the banners borne by them in the battle. But 
in looking upon these ancient relics, I felt that the 
spirit of intolerance, which led the contestants on 
that eventful occasion to slaughter each other with- 



THE EXCURSION. 141 

" out discrimination, still exists, in some degree, among 
nearly all denominations of Christians. Even our 
own little party, so congenial in all other respects, 
was not entirely free from its baneful influence ; 
Father McQuinlan turned his back upon the colors, 
and Musgrave and myself were constrained to regard 
them in silence. At that moment I bethought me 
of the parting words of Mrs. Barrington to 0"Neil, 
and was even more deeply impressed with their signifi- 
cance than when I heard them uttered — " Wide as 
our views differ in some respects, the world is wide 
enough for us to dwell in in peace ; let us hope that 
Bfeaven is not more circumscribed." 



CHAPTER VIII. 



LOUGH ERNE. 



WMm S only three of our party could ride in each 
car, we had some little difficulty in dividing 
ourselves, — not into pieces, but into trios, — 
so as to afford entire satisfaction. The 0' gentlemen 
wished to. be together again, that they might con- 
tinue their reminiscences ; the " oily man of God" 
and myself, that we might revel again in the regions 
of remote antiquity ; and the lovers, that they might 
more effectually lose themselves in the misty mazes 
of labyrinthine love. It was impossible to complete 
the arrangement without separating one of these 
couples, and here lay the difficulty. Out of respect 
to age, the O's ought not to be deprived of each oth- 
er's company ; it seemed a little cruel to separate the 
lovers, who were just beginning to realize, 

• " There's nothing half so sweet in life 
As love's young dream ;" 

yet the partiality of the priest, among all devout 
Catholics, is never to be overlooked. It will be ob- 



LOUGH ERNE. 143 

served that I had not taken myself into the consid- 
eration ; and yet it was impossible to part Father 
McQuinlan and myself without depriving him of the 
pleasant privilege, so rarely enjoyed, of airing his anti- 
quarian knowledge. So, it was finally arranged, — the 
best that could be done, — that the O's should ride 
together one way, and the lovers the other, and that 
I, being the only one who would listen to what 
(T Keeffe called, not irreverently, "the clack of the 
praist," should be left to the " tinder mercies of his 
riverence." 

In making this arrangement, I felt myself very 
much in the condition of the Irishman, who chanced 
to be present at a dinner where the party consisted of 
a father and mother, two sons and two daughters, 
and the dinner of two birds. Pat took it upon him- 
self to carve, and dissevering the heads, he gave one 
to each of the parents, remarking that the heads 
properly belonged to the heads of the family. To 
the girls he gave the wings, because, as he said, they 
were always flying about ; and the legs to the boys, 
who were constantly walking hither and thither, being 
farmers. " As for myself,'' said Pat, " that being all 
that's left, I must contint myself wid de bodies." 

Out of respect to the priest, the car in which we 
were seated took the lead, the other following at a 
short distance. In the first drive, Musgrave was of 



144 benedict's wanderings. 

our party, but he took no part, and possibly not 
much interest, in the conversation. 

Our course was toward the ocean, along the south- 
ern shore of the lower Erne, on the road to Ballyshan- 
non. The lake was on our right, and on our left a 
range of lofty hills, which commence near the town 
and extend as far as the pretty little village of Bal- 
leck. These hills were richly cultivated, and from 
the appearance of the crops, some of which were 
gathered into shocks, abundantly productive. 

Between the road and the water, there is a fertile 
valley, thick with trees and underwood, and beyond it 
stretches the long and narrow lake with its multi- 
tude of islands. Of these islands it is said, as it is 
of the Thimble Islands on the coast of Connecticut, 
that they are as many in number as the days of the 
year. Like the group just mentioned, they embrace 
a great variety of sizes, from the speck that seems so 
small that a man's hat might cover it, to the extent 
of several acres. But the largest of the cluster in 
Long Island Sound, are small in comparison with 
some of those in Lough Erne, which, from the road, 
have the appearance of well-improved and valuable 
farms. And they differ in another respect : while 
the Thimble group are all barren, and some of them 
bare gray rocks, those of the Erne are all green, some 
of them very productive, and some of them the feed- 



LOUGH ERNE. 



145 



ing places of vast flocks of sheep that have grown fat 
upon the luxuriant herbage. 

Along the whole of the route, the opposite shore 
was in full view ; the lake having no greater width 
than nine miles, and this at only one place, in the 




TULLY CASTI.K 



vicinity of Tully Castle, which was the extent of our 
drive in that direction. This ancient castle stood 
upon a promontory that juts out into the lake ; the 
site of which may have been selected as well with a 
view to the beauty of the prospect, as to the strength 
of the situation. 

" It is another of the fortified residences erected 
by the first Scotch settlers in the country," said 



146 benedict's wanderings. 

Father McQuinlan. " As you perceive from the 
ruins, it contained a keep turrated at the angles, and 
was surrounded by a bawn, or outer wall, enclosing a 
court yard. According to Pynnar, it was owned and 
occupied in 1681, by Sir John Hume, and called 
Carrynoe ; and in the bawn dwelt twenty-four fami- 
lies." 

Here we descended from the cars and climbed up 
the ruins to an elevated position, that we might ob- 
tain a better view of the prospect, which the reverend 
father described as " extensive and inconceivably 
beautiful/' The lovers, by some invisible attraction, 
found their way into each other's society, and were 
the last to enter upon the enjoyment of the landscape. 

" Those are the ruins of the Castle of Monea," said 
Father McQuinlan, pointing to the remains of 
another fortess, a few miles to the north-east. " It 
was another of the fortified residences of the first 
Scotch settlers, and resembles this in its general char- 
acteristics." 

Had I been alone, I should have extended my ex- 
cursion as far as Ballyshannon, the principal town of 
Donegal, and the head quarters of the county militia, 
where may be seen the ruins of the ancient castle of 
the Earls of Tyrconnell. 

" As it is not the salmon-season," said Father 
McQuinlan, " you may pass it by for the present. 



LOUGH ERNE. 147 

But you will do well to remember, should you visit 
Ireland again, that the salmon-leap of Ballyshannon 
is the grandest in the kingdom. The fall is nearly 
twenty feet, and it extends entirely across the river, 
at that point a hundred and fifty yards wide." 

" It seems hardly credible/' said I, " that the fish 
are able to leap up this fall, and make their way to 
the lake." 

" Yet they do, 1 ' he replied, "and up four others 
of less magnitude, one of which, near the village of 
Balleck, is the most graceful of cataracts. At the 
usual season of their voyaging, they may be counted 
by thousands, overcoming these natural barriers to 
their passage." 

Ke turning, we traveled at a greater speed, and 
after stoping at the town for a few minutes to rest 
the horses, proceeded along the shore of the upper 
lake, where the grace and grandeur of nature is most 
wonderfully displayed. It seems too much to say, and 
yet it is scarcely possible to exaggerate in describing 
the surpassing loveliness of the whole locality. Father 
McQuinlan was unreserved in his encomiums : 

" Though other parts of the county are exceedingly 
picturesque, there is none that equals in grace and 
loveliness the upper Lough Erne. The Lakes of 
Killarney,celebrated ages ago for their romantic beauty 
and soft bewitching scenery, and sometimes styled 



148 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



the tenth wonder of Ireland, affords not a more beau- 
tiful landscape than that which we have enjoyed 
from the ruins of Tully Castle. Taking Lough 
Erne in its length and breadth, there is not in Great 
Britain, or in Germany, or even in Switzerland, more 
picturesque prospects, or a more perfect panoram a." 





CHAPTER IX. 

THE ROUND TOWER. 

ALTOGETHER, the drive was one of the 
|l pleasantest I ever enjoyed. It was scarcely 
^ff^ less gratifying to my companions, O'Neil and 
the lovers. Father McQuinlan and Mr. O'KeefTe 
had been over the same ground before, the former on 
several occasions. To them it was no longer a nov- 
elty ; but no one ever tires of the Erne and its vari- 
ous beauties. The antiquary found special enjoy- 
ment in pointing out the ruins of time, and the ob- 
jects of highest attraction, from the best points of ob- 
servation. As to the " fine ould Irish gintleman" of 
Londonderry, he would gladly have done the like, to 
the best of his ability ; but the young people were so 
interested in each other, that it required an effort to 
attract their notice. At first he thought little of it, 
and from time to time, as they advanced, directed 
their attention to objects of interest and beauty. 
Presently, however, he became wearied or dissatis- 
fied, and wrapping himself up in his dignity, lapsed 
into silence. 



150 benedict's wanderings. 

The young people were too much engaged to notice 
the change, and virtually ignored his presence. But 
this enabled him the better to observe what he might 
not have otherwise discovered, that between these two 
there was a growing attachment. It was with sur- 
prise and apprehension that he made the discovery. 
He had looked forward with pleasurable anticipations 
to the time when he should find in his niece what he 
had never yet enjoyed, a daughter. He had hoped to 
have her with him for a year or two, until they had 
become closely attached as parent and child. After 
that he had in view for her, a settlement in life, as the 
wife of the son of one of his most intimate and highly 
esteemed friends — Terence O'Reilly, a rising young 
barrister of Londonderry. 

Now that ho perceived the danger, he resolved to 
adopt immediate and effectual measures to avert it ; 
fur, he argued with himself, the longer I permit this 
unrestrained familiarity, the more difficult it will be 
to counteract its influence. At the same time, he 
was too crafty to act with precipitation, lest lie might 
occasion alarm and thereby defeat his own plans. 
Accordingly, the young people were allowed to occupy 
seats together in the boat, and to straggle behind the 
rest of the party as we went up from, the water to 
behold the ruins of Devenish. 

This island is about two miles below Enniskill^n, 



THE ROUND TOWER. 



151 



and is said to contain between seventy and eighty 
Irish acres. In itself it is neither picturesque nor 
attractive in its appearance. Viewed from the water, 
it presents, in some points, an oval outline in the 
gently swelling and sloping ground, and this is the 
only beauty it possesses. Owing to the great value of 
the land, which is exceedingly fertile, or possibly in 
consequence of neglect, it is destitute of trees and 
shrubs of nearly every description. 




THE RUINS OF DEVENISH ISLAND. 

On this island are the ruins of three churches, one 
of which, known as the Priory, stands near the round 
tower. As churches are generally found to acconi- 



152 Benedict's wanderings. 

pany these towers, one or the other is supposed to be 
an appendage. But whether the tower is an accom- 
paniment of the church or the church of the tower, is 
a question not yet decided. 

" The Round Tower, 1 ' remarked Father McQuin- 
lan, "is a prodigious puzzle to antiquarians. It be- 
longs exclusively to our country, in which no less 
than sixty-five have been discovered and described. 
These vary in height from thirty-five to a hundred 
and twenty feet, the loftiest being those at Dromin- 
skin, Fertagh, Kilmacdaugh, Kildare, Kells, and Dev- 
enish. Some stand on circular and some on square 
bases, but all taper from the base to a conical cap or 
roof, which crowns the summit. Writers have as- 
signed them to the obscene rites of Paganism ; oth- 
er writers, to the mystic worship of Druidism ; and 
others still, maintain that they were temples of the 
fire-worshipers, or standings of the pillar-worshipers. 
Again, some contend that they were belfries of the 
early Christians ; others, that they were military 
strongholds of the Danish invaders ; and others still, 
that they were defensive retreats for the native cler- 
gy, from the sudden inroads of the ruthless Norman. 
But all these clever conjectures, some of which are 
the result of recondite researches, have led to no satis- 
factory conclusion. It is the generally received opinion 
that the tower is an appendage to the church ; but 



THE ROUND TOWER. 153 

that could not have been the fact in the ruin before 
us, as the Priory is comparatively a modern struct- 
ure. It was built in the year of our Lord 1449, as 
this date appears with other circumstances cut in re- 
lief on a stone, which is built into the wall of the 
priory-tower ; while the round tower is a construc- 
tion of a time so remote, that its origin is lost in 

■ 
antiquity." 

The tower of Devenish is said to be ninety feet in 
height, and at the base forty-eight feet in circumfer- 
ence. The outline of this tower is beautiful ; indeed, 
it is generally regarded as the most beautiful of these 
extraordinary constructions in Ireland. It is built of 
a light brown sand-stone, which is found in the im- 
mediate neighborhood. This stone is excellently 
adapted for building purposes, as it may be fashioned 
to any pattern, and is hardened by exposure to the 
atmosphere. Mortar was used to cement the stones, 
but the quantity was so small that it can only be dis- 
covered by a close inspection. 

The stones of which the tower was built, were accu- 
rately cut to correspond with the curve of its con- 
struction. The summit is built of stones cut in like 
manner, and laid on in series, successively diminish- 
ing till it is crowned by a cap-stone shaped to a cone. 
The cornice is divided into four parts, which are 
marked by four carved heads, looking toward the 



154 benedict's wanderings. 

cardinal points. The carvings are neatly wrought, 
and each differs from the others in essential particu- 
lars. 

About seven feet from the ground there is an open- 
ing, evidently intended for a door-way ; it is about 
four feet high, and has on the inner jamb, on the 
left-hand side, an iron hinge strongly fastened in 
the stone ; while, a short distance above, on the 
same side, is a fractured spot, indicating the place 
where the corresponding hinge had been. There are 
several openings in the tower, probably windows ; 
four of them are close under the cornice, and their 
places are marked by the carved heads ; the others 
are below them, at different distances. 

" In one particular these towers are alike," said 
Father McQuinlan, " they are all round in their con- 
struction. But they differ in some other respects, 
two or three of which I have already mentioned. 
Usually the doors are from thirteen to twenty feet 
from the ground, the one in this tower being the low- 
est within my knowledge. In size and shape the 
entrances correspond ; they are all so low and nar- 
row that none can enter, except one at a time by 
stooping.' 1 

Unlike many of the towers that have been discov- 
ered and described, that on the island of Devenish 
was complete, though I observed that the cap-stone 



THE KOTJND TOWER. 155 

had been loosened. Some seeds of the elder, borne to 
the summit by the wind, had there taken root and 
flourished ; and the roots having penetrated the crev- 
ices, had forced the stone from its position. To this 
fact I directed the attention of Father McQuinlan. 

" It is some years since the discovery," he replied, 
" and with each year the danger has increased. If 
something is not done to preserve this interesting 
structure, it will not be a great while before it will- 
be added to our numerous ruins. That of which 
Ireland has the most reason to complain is, that 
Irishmen are so wanting, in this and other respects, 
to themselves and their country." 





CHAPTER X. 



STRATEGY. 

^HE boatmen having brought the basket of pro- 
!| visions, Nora, with the help of Musgrave, 
M^m spread our lunch upon a broad stone at the base 
of the round tower. Meanwhile 0' KeefFe regarded them 
with jealousy and apprehension, and pondered in his 
mind the best mode of securing their speedy separa- 
tion. He would have taken Father McQuinlan into 
his confidence at the moment, and craved the benefit 
of his wisdom and experience, but the holy man was 
deep in the denunciation of his countrymen, for their 
inexcusable neglect of the ruins of antiquity. " Only 
a few years back," he remarked, "the ruins of the 
Priory were much more extensive. But the boys of 
the town, so I am informed, have shown much ac- 
tivity in throwing down the walls and clearing away 
the fallen masses. It may be that, in their judgment, 
these encumbered the ground ; but they should have 
been properly instructed in this respect, by their pa- 



STRATEGY. 157 

rents, who are chiefly to blame for their vandalism. 
Time has been to them a mere child in the work of 
devastation. " 

Lunch being ready, O'Keeffe invited us to come 
forward and replenish. By a little maneuvering, he 
placed Nora between Father McQuinlan aud myself, 
while he endeavored to interest O'Neil and Musgrave 
in conversation. It was a shallow device, and only 
half succeeded ; the young folks exchanged glances 
and occasionally remarks, notwithstanding the sepa- 
ration. 

When the meal was over, and the fragments re- 
placed in the basket, the lovers went together to view 
a curious old relic among the weeds — a long, narrow 
stone coffin, ages without a tenant. Tradition as- 
cribes to this relic the virtues of a prophetic talis- 
man, whereby one may learn his present and future 
state. It is said that, guided by the legend, they 
who dare, may read their future weal or woe by lying 
down in it, as it tits or otherwise ; and according to 
the postures in which they lie and turn in it, so read 
they of their doom. 

While O'Neil and I, with the bottle of poteen be- 
tween us, was cliscusing an interesting question in 
astronomy, O'Keeffe took Father McQuinlan aside, 
and made known his fears in regard to his neice, now 
his daughter. TJie priest listened with attention, 



158 benedict's wandekings. 

and then advised that the matter should be left to his 
management. 

Our party having gathered about the stone coffin, 
Father McQuinlan suggested that it was a good op- 
portunity to try our fortunes, if we had faith in the 
virtues attributed to it by the old peasant-chroniclers. 
The proposition was intended for Musgrave, who in- 
quired particularly as to the posture and position, 
and their significance, and then entered the coffin. 
One of the boatmen, an old man, who had been car- 
rying pilgrims to the ruins of Devenish for many 
years, and was familiar with the legend, averred that 
it was the very best fortune within his recollection. 

I can not say that Father McQuinlan had any 
thing special in view, but if he had it was frustrated. 
Nor do I know certainly that it was at his sugges- 
tion that O'Keeffe inquired, on our way back in the 
railway cars, if I intended to visit Cavan. 

" Not," I replied, " unless it lies within my route, 
and contains some object of particular interest." 

" It is on the road to Dublin, 1 ' he replied. " The 
town is small, and not well built, though there are a 
few good edifices, among Avhich are the court-house, 
barracks and infirmary. But it is the burial place 
and where moulder the bones of Mao] mordha O'Reilly, 
chief of a brave and patriotic sept, surnamed ' Myles 
the Slasher.' You have read of Myles O'Reilly ?" 



STRATEGY. 159 

Myles O'Reilly ! " Private Myles O'Reilly !" How 
familiar to my ears ! During tiie Southern Rebellion 
and since, no name was better known in America. 
The nom de guerre of the lamented Halpine, whose 
pen entitled him, as the sword entitled the renowned 
Maolmordha, to the significant surname of " Myles 
the Slasher." 

"I have read/- said I, " that he was a celebrated 
partizan and an able captain during the civil wars of 
1643 in Ireland ; and that his heroic defence of the 
bridge of Finea against the attack of the Scots, then 
bearing down on the main army with very superior 
force, may be justly compared with the celebrated 
achievement of Leonidas at the pass of Thermopyhe." 

" Such is the historical record of this great man," 
said O'Keeffe ; " but the exact character of his dar- 
ing deed ought to be known and remembered. Hav- 
ing placed himself in the center of the pass, he calmly 
awaited the approaching host, with the exclamation 
of Fitzjames in a similar position — 

' Come one, come all, this rock shall fly 
From its firm base as soon as I. 1 

Standing erect within the gorge, he with his single- 
hand slew in succession four and twenty assailants ; 
but the twenty-fifth, 

'A wary, cool, old sworder, took 
The blows upon his cutlass, and then 
His now put in.' 



160 benedict's wanderings. 

Raising himself in his stirrups, he lunged at the neck 
of O'Reilly, who, missing parry, dipped his head and 
caught within his teeth his adversary's sword, and 
there held it as in a vice ; and then raising his own 
powerful arm, lopped off that of his antagonist which 
held the sword." 

It cost me an effort to hear with gravity the rela- 
tion of this last feat of the renowned Maolmordha, 
but a doubt of its achievement had never entered the 
mind of his credulous countryman. 

" But he was not proof against the cowardly strat- 
agem to which the enemy resorted," continued 
O'Keeffe. " Finding him an isolated man, unap- 
proachable on level ground , they embarked a company 
of halberdiers in a boat, and passing under the bridge 
compelled him with their pikes to quit his post. His 
flanks uncovered, he ultimately fell, the bridge was 
crossed, and the battle lost to the Irish. The next 
day his body was found among the dead, and taken 
by his friends to Cavan, where it was interred with 
his ancestors in the monastery originally founded by 
them in that town. On his tomb was a Latin in- 
scription, of which the last two lines were legible at 
the period of the demolition of that splendid monu- 
ment in the beginning of the nineteenth century, thsu 
rendered by one of his descendants : 



STRATEGY. 161 

' Reader, think not that Myles rests here alone, 
His prostrate country lies beneath this stone.'" 

" What is there at Cavan to reward the pilgrim, 
the tomb of O'Reilly having been destroyed ?" I en- 
quired. 

" What, sure enough. " replied O'Keefe. " But 
though they have thrown down his monument, they 
have not destroyed his progeny ; and you shall have 
the pleasure of seeing at dinner this evening, one of 
his descendants, Terrence O'Reilly, a young bar- 
rister of Deny, tall and handsome, graceful and gal- 
lant, the paragon of Ulster." 

Having uttered these words, he looked askance at 
Nora, to note their effect. A faint flush oversj)read 
her countenance at the mention of this name ; evi- 
dently it was not the first time it had been heard. 
The effect was noticed by Musgrave, and caused him 
some uneasiness. 

At dinner that evening were several gentlemen 
of Londonderry, and among them Terrence O'Reilly. 
I must do him the justice to say, that the description 
of him by O'Keefe, was not in the least exaggerated. 
Nor was he indifferent to the attractions, personal and 
intellectual, of the "colleen bawn." Father Mc- 
Quinlan exerted himself to have her appear to advan- 
tage. The wit and humor of that evening, to which 
Musgrave and O'Reilly contributed their full share 



162 



benedict's wanderings. 



in the spirit of rivalry, I have never heard excelled. 
As on the morrow O'Neil was to take his departure 
for home, and Musgrave and myself to bear him com- 
pany as far as Belfast, we made what they call in 
that country, "a night of it." But not having a 
very distinct recollection of what followed, I shall 
leave it to the reader's imagination. 



■&M 




I 



CHAPTER XL 

MAN PROPOSES. 

JHE next morning was bright and beautiful, 
and the "colleen bawr/' was like the morning, 
c$Wjl$ only brighter and more beautiful. At least so 
thought Musorave as he looked forth from his win- 
dow and beheld her alone on the terrace, her fair hair, 
tinged with the golden glow of the sun, hanging 
about her neck and shoulders in clusters of curls. It 
was only the second morning of her life in London- 
derry, yet she had already selected as a place of prom- 
enade, a shaded walk on the terrace, commanding an 
extensive view of the city and country. At that mo- 
ment she was absorbed in the contemplation of the 
picturesque prospect. 

The light foot-fall of Musgrave on the graveled 
walk recalled her to consciousness, and her face 
flushed a little in his presence. Was she rejoiced to 
have him meet her there alone, or had he surprised 
her in the midst of tender thoughts for Terrence 
O'Reilly ? Lovers are hopeful, and he appropriated 



164 benedict's wanderings. 

the former conclusion without the labor of ratiocina- 
tion. Knowing that it would be his only opportu- 
nity, he began to pour forth his love in a torrent of 
honied phraseology such as she had never imagined 
in her wildest anticipations. 

For a while she listened, delighted, entranced ; 
then, conscious that her silence was giving encourage- 
ment, she checked him with a gentle interruption. 
It was, she said, so sudden, so unexpected, upon so 
short an acquaintance ; and she knew so little of her 
uncle, or of his ways and wishes, or of his plans and 

prospects for her Musgrave could endure no more ; 

he burst forth again with his bewitching eloquence, 
and showered so many flattering encomiums upon her 
pretty head, that the poor girl was completely be- 
wildered. 

Suddenly, from a cross-walk, concealed by a clump 
of bushes, appeared Mr. O 1 Keeffe. Whether he had 
heard their conversation, they were unable to conjec- 
ture. He greeted them with unusual cordiality, and 
then pointed out the objects in view of principal in- 
terest. Musgrave felt that he had been deprived of 
his opportunity, for the old gentleman continued to 
designate the beauties of the landscape until break- 
fast was announced. 

After breakfast came the partings. Mr. 0' Keeffe 
was profuse of his compliments. He invited O'Neil 



MAN PROPOSES. 165 

to come and make him a long visit, and hoped that 
I, on my return from Belfast, would gratify him with 
a day or two of what he was pleased to term my " ex- 
cellent society.' 1 He was about to bid Musgrave a 
simple adieu, when a supplicating look from Nora 
brought a tear to his eye, — of affection it may have 
been, or it may have been of regret, — but it secured 
a similar invitation. 

But the young man felt that it was forced, and his 
sensitive nature revolted at what he regarded as a 
slight from the " fine ould Irish gintleman" of Lon- 
donderry. Yet he concealed his chagrin, and when 
our hospitable host proposed " one bumper at part- 
ing," he gallantly repeated from Moore's melody of 
of that title, with peculiar stress upon certain por- 
tions — 

" As onward we journey, how pleasant 

To pause and inhabit a while 
Those few sunny spots, like the present, 

That 'mid the dull wilderness smile ! 
But time, like a pitiless master, 

Cries ' Onward !' aud spurs the gay hours, 
And never does Time travel faster 

Than when his way lies among flowers. 
But come, may our life's happy measure 

Be all of such moments made up ; 
They're born on the bosom of pleasure, 

They die 'midst the tears of the cup." 

Still smarting under the slight, for the first few 
miles Musgrave was silent; but as we approached 



166 benedict's wanderings. 

Omagh, he signified his intention of parting from us, 
that he might visit Clones and Monaghan. 

" And for what ?" said O'Neil. " There is noth- 
ing of interest at either place." 

" 0, yes," replied Musgrave. " Near the former 
town are numerous antiquities, including an ahbey 
founded in the sixteenth century ; and near the lat- 
ter, the ruins of an old fort erected by Queen Eliza- 
beth." 

" At a very early period," replied O'Neil, " an 
abbey was founded in Monaghan, and in the ninth 
century it was pillaged and destroyed. It was on the 
very spot where that Christian edifice stood, that her 
majesty erected the fort as a defence against the 
Irish." 

There was so much bitterness in the tone of O'Neil, 
especially in the utterance of the second sentence, 
that Musgrave did not venture another remark on the 
subject, lest he might again run counter to his preju- 
dices. 

Anciently, county Monaghan was called " McMa- 
hon's country," from the powerful sept by whom it 
was ruled, and by whom fierce opposition was made to 
its settlement by the English An anecdote is told to 
illustrate the character of their opposition. The earl- 
iest of the English settlers having entered into a 
treaty with the native chieftain, confided to him two 



MAN PROPOSES. 167 

forts which he had built ; but McMahon soon after 
deserted and destroyed them, and when questioned 
concerning his breach of faith, proudly answered that 
" he had not bound himself to keep stone walls, 
while his native woods were so near to give him shel- 
ter and afford him protection." The opposition of 
this sept continued down to the reign of Elizabeth, 
during which the chieftain of the clan was captured 
and hung, and the territory made shire-ground and 
divided according to the present baronial arrange- 
ment. 






CHAPTER XII. 



ST. PATRICK'S CITY. 




RAVING persuaded Musgrave to abandon his 
contemplated desertion, we proceeded together 
p) to the city of Armagh, — in the Irish tongue, 
Ardmagha, "the lofty ground," — the capital of 
county Armagh, (one of the counties forfeited to the 
crown after the reduction of the Earl of Tyrone,) and 
the archieopiscopal seat of " all Ireland." 

" Is it not claimed for this city," inquired Mus- 
grave, " that it was founded by St. Patrick in the 
fifth century ?" 

"Yes," answered O'Neil, "and I believe with suffi- 
cient reason. It is a very ancient city, and if you de- 
sire, as we passed by Clones and Monaghan, we can 
stop over here until the next train, and still have 
time to reach Belfast before sundown." 

As Armagh was said to contain many objects of in- 
terest, I was in favor of the diversion. Leaving the 
cars, we entered the city by one of the principal 
streets, and directed our footsteps to the cathedral. 



st. Patrick's city. 169 

As we progressed, O'Neil pointed out the principal 
edifices, among which I remember the county court 
house, lunatic asylum, prison, infirmary and a bar- 
racks said to be capable of accommodating eight hun- 
dred men. Some of these as also some of the churches 
present a fine appearance, seen from the railway ; and 
being built of hard red marble, like most of the 
dwelling-houses, contain the elements of durability. 
Viewed from the cathedral, whence the streets diverge 
down the sides of a hill, the prospect is pleasant and 
peculiar. 

By the munificence of Lord Rokeby, a late arch- 
bishop, the city of Armagh, which had become very 
much decayed, was restored and advanced. Among 
other improvements, he built a handsome palace, one 
of the finest edifices in the city ; and a large school 
house, to which he added a public library for the pro- 
motion of science, which contained at the time of my 
visit upwards of fourteen thousand volumes. He also 
erected an observatory, with fine aparatns and a lib- 
eral income for an astronomer, securing the endow- 
ments by several acts of the legislature. 

The cathedral of Armagh — the original edifice — 
was erected by St. Patrick, according to received au- 
thority, in the year 445. It is described in a life of 
the founder, as an oblong structure, one hundred and 
forty feet in length, and divided into nave and choir, 



170 benedict's wanderings. 

according to the custom of all the ancient Catholic 
churches. This sacred edifice did not escape the sac- 
religious devastations of the northern invaders, by 
whom it was pillaged and burned, together with the 
other buildings of the city, in 839 and again in 850. 
In 890 it was partly broken down by the Danes of 
Dublin, under the command of Gluniarn. In 995, 
it was burned by an accidental conflagration, generated 
by lightning. After this fire it was repaired in part, 
and was again burnt in 1020. In 1125, the roof was 
repaired with tiles, by the Primate Celsus, and a more 
perfect restoration was effected by the Primate Gela- 
sius in 1145. Thence this venerable remain appears 
to have suffered little, save from age, till the seven- 
teenth century, when on the 2d of May, in the year 
1642, it was burned by Sir Phelim O'Neill. No other 
church was ever known to suffer so many conflagra- 
tions. 

After its destruction by O'Neill, it was deemed no 
longer serviceable, and the present church was erected 
on its site, in 1675, by the benevolent Archbishop 
Margetson. It is in the Gothic style, a stately struc- 
ture, the grandest in the city, and from its superior 
situation by far the most imposing edifice. In form 
and size, it differs from its ancient predecessor, its 
shape being that of a cross, and its interior measure- 
ments one hundred and eighty-three feet and six 



ST. PATRICK S CITY. 171 

inches in length from east to west, and its breath in 
transcepts, one hundred and nineteen feet from north 
to south. The interior is ornamented with several 
splendid monuments, the most remarkable for beauty 
and costliness, being that of the pious, worthy, and 
learned Dean Drelincourt, a work of the famous 
sculptor Rysbrack. The other monuments most 
worthy of notice, are those of William Viscount 
Charlemont, who died in 1671, and his father, Wil- 
liam Baron Oaulfield ; Rev. Dr. Jenny, rector of the 
parish, who died in 1758 ; Rev. Thomas Carpendale, 
master of the endowed classic school of Armagh, 
erected in 1818 ; and a beautiful bust of Primate 
Robinson, by Bacon. 

Unfortunately the monuments for which the old 
cathedral was celebrated, no longer remain. They 
were destroyed when the edifice was demolished, 
though some of them deserved a better fate at the 
hands of posterity. The most precious were those of 
the intrepid heroes of Clontarf, the venerable Brien 
Boiroimhe, his son Murrough, his grand son Tur- 
lough, his nephew Conan, and his friend Methlin, 
Prince of Waterford. In the old cathedral, their bod- 
ies, which had been conveyed thither by the clergy, 
lay in funeral state for twelve successive nights, during 
which, psalms, hymns, and prayers, according to the 
ritual of the church of Rome, were chanted for their 
souls. n 



CHAPTER XIII. 



BRIEN THE BRAVE. 



Jjj^SlTANDING above the spot where it is said the 
J body of Brien Boiroimhe was deposited in the 
earth nearly nine centuries ago, and recalling 
his labors of a life-time for the promotion of civil and 
religious liberty, the establishment of just and equal 
laws, and the dissemination of learning, I could not 
wonder at the pride which thrills the breast of every 
true Irishman, at the mention of the name of that 
marvelous monarch. To how many are the words of 
the war song familiar, and how many has it inspired 
with the hope of their country's liberation from the 
galling yoke of British tyrany — 

' ' Remember the glories of Brien the brave, 

Though the days of the hero are o'er ; 
Though lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave, 

He returns to Kinkora no more ! 
That star of the field which so often has pour'd 

Its beams on the battle, is set ; 
But enough of its glory remains on each sword 

To light us to glory yet. " 

Brien Boiroimhe, of the house of Heremon, one of 
the most illustrious kings of Ireland, — it is scarcely 



BRIEN THE BRAVE. 173 

too much to say the most illustrious, — was born in the 
year 926, and commenced his reign in Munster, in the 
thirty-ninth year of his age. The length of his reign 
was forty-nine years, the first thirty-seven as king of < 
Munster, and the last twelve as monarch of Ireland. 
He succeeded Malichi of Meath, or rather dethroned 
that monarch, who, though renowned in song and 
history for his valorous achievements, was unable to 
unite the provincial kings against the Danes who 
had invaded the island and usurped a portion of its 
territory. 

Brien was a man of indominable will and bravery, 
and having defeated the Danes at Grlenananin, where 
he left six thousand slain and razed their city, he re- 
ceived assurances that if he would assume the national 
crown, the generality of the princes would rally under 
his standard. The progress the Danes were making in 
the country, demanded a unity of the people, and the 
princes of Connaught and Munster decreed that Mal- 
ichi should be dethroned, and the sceptre transferred 
to Brien, a prince, King of Munster, whom they be- 
lieved capable of repressing the insolence of those 
barbarians. Thereupon Brien marched an army to 
Tara, the seat of the Irish monarchs, compelled Mali- 
chi to abdicate, and was declared monarch of the 
whole island in the year 1002. Having received the 



174 benedict's wandekings. 

fealty of 0' Conor, King of Connougkt, he marched to 
Ulster, where he received high honor from Malmi- 
bury, Archbishop of that See, and was acknowledge d 
monarch by Hugh O'Neil, King ol Ulster. 

Having settled the affairs of the nation by an as- 
sembly of bishops and . nobles, who solemnly crowned 
him mOnTarch of Ireland, he entered upon the dis- 
charge of his duties with wisdom and discretion, and 
enacted for the public welfare laws that were every- 
where respected throughout the kingdom. It is his- 
torically stated, that the people were inspired with 
such a spirit of honor, virtue, and religion, by his 
great example and excellent administration, that, as a 
proof of it, a young lady of great beauty, adorned with 
jewels and costly dress, undertook a journey alone, 
from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a 
wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring 
of exceeding great value ; and such an impression had 
the laws and government of this monarch made on the 
minds of all the people, that no attempt was made 
upon her honor, nor was she robbed of her clothes or 
jewels. The following ballad of Moore was founded 
upon this anecdote : 

" Rich and rare were the gems she wore, 
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore ; 
But oh ! her beauty was far beyond 
Her sparkling gems or snow-white wand. 



BRIEN THE BRAVE. 175 

" Lady! dost thou not fear to stray, 
So lone and lonely, through this bleak way ? 
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, 
As not to be tempted by woman or gold ?" 

" Sir Knight ! I feel not the least alarm, 
No son of Erin will offer me harm — 
For though they love woman and golden store, 
Sir Knight, they love honor and virtue more." 

On she went, and her maiden smile 
In safety lighted her round the Green Isle. 
And blest forever is she who relied 
Upon Erin's honor, and Erin's pride. 

Perhaps no kingdom ever flourished at a more 
rapid rate during any one reign than did Ireland un- 
der Brien. He restored the church property, and to 
the old proprietors their possessions ; he rebuilt the 
monasteries, reestablished universities and public 
schools, and encouraged science and literature ; he 
placed garrisons for public safety, ciaused good roads 
and bridges to be built, and did whatever else he 
thought would conduce to the welfare of his people. 

It has been the curse of Ireland, that her haughty 
chieftains were prune to quarrel with each other, 
sometimes for reasons of the silliest character. Even 
the great Brien did not escape this general misfor- 
tune. His wife was the sister of Maolmorda, prince 
of Leinster, who came to Brien to visit his sister and 
pay him the obedience due from a provincial prince 
to the monarch of Ireland. For this act of duty he 
was reproved by hi a sister, who, high in her fanoied 



176 benedict's wanderings. 

dignity of blood, would not suffer her Brother to bend 
before her husband. A coolness ensued, and dislike, 
ending in strife ; and the Danes, availing themselves 
of the dissension, sent Maolmorda secret supplies of 
men and arms to resist the authority of the monarch. 
Another version of the quarrel is, that Maolmorda, 
while on a visit to his sister, was insulted by Mur- 
rough, the eldest son of the monarch ; and leaving 
the palace in high dudgeon, he entered into an alli- 
ance with Sitrick, king of the Danes of Dublin, who, 
by express to Denmark, secured a large army from 
that country. 

However the fact may be, it is certain that the 
prince of Leinster joined the Danes, and fought with 
them at Clontarf, where he was slain. Historians 
differ as to the number of troops engaged in that 
great battle, which took place on Good Friday, April 
23, 1014. Nor do they agree as to the number of 
slain, one account being seven thousand Irish and 
thirteen thousand Danes, and another ten thousand 
Irish and fourteen thousand Danes. 

Though in the eighty-eighth year of his age, Brien 
addressed his troops before the battle, and would have 
conducted them in the fight, had not his chiefs inter- 
posed, and implored him, on account of his age, to 
leave the command to his son, the valliant Murrough. 
With this request he unwillingly complied, and re- 



BRIEN THE BRAVE. 177 

tiring to his tent, prayed while the battle lasted. He 
was still at prayer when a party of runaway Danes, 
led by Broder, attacked him ; but seizing his sword, 
he cut off the head of the leader, the legs of another, 
and even slew a third, and then calmly resigned him- 
self to death. 

Brien, and his son Murrough, and his grandson 
Turlough, were buried at Swords, but their remains 
were afterwards removed, by order of the Bishop, in 
accordance with the will of the monarch,. to Armagh, 
where they were entombed in St. Patrick's cathedral. 

Brien Boiroimhe commanded in twenty-nine pitch- 
ed battles against the Danes, and obtained many 
victories, the last of which, Olontarf, extinguished 
their power in Ireland. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



THE NEW CITY. 




|ELFAST, though an ancient town, is com- 
paratively a new city. When or by whom it 
was founded, is not known. As early as 1315, 
it is spoken of as among the " good towns and strong- 
holds" destroyed by Edward Bruce. The castle of 
Belfast was reduced to a ruin in 1503, and again in 
1512, by Lord Kildare. In the seventeenth century, 
it ranked as a small garrison town, " dependent on 
Carrickerngus," and as late as 1660, contained but a 
hundred and fifty houses. In 1720, all the houses 
were on one street, and thatched with straw, and in 
1800 the population did not exceed twenty thousand. 
Since that period its growth, in the old world, has 
been unprecedented. The present population is not 
much if any short of one hundred and fifty thousand. 
Seen at a distance, the city does not present an 
imposing appearance, owing to the very low position 
it occupies. It is situated near the mouth of the 
Lagan, and the greater portion of it is not more than 






THE NEW CITY. 



179 



six feet above high water at the spring tides. But I 
observed that it improved as we approached, and the 
unfavorable impression received at first sight was 
gradually removed. The houses are mostly con- 




CITT <>F BELFAST. 



Btructed of brick, and some of them are quite 
handsome, while some of the public buildings are su- 
perior structures. Among these are the custom 
house, post-office, blind asylum, a new and elegant 
edifice, and the office of the harbor commissioners, 
one of the most graceful and gorgeous buildings in 
the city, constructed of cut stone, and finished in the 
Italian style. 



180 benedict's wanderings. 

In this city are upwards of forty church edifices, 
the most expensive and elegant of which are St. 
Patrick's Cathedral, and the First Presbyterian 
Meeting-house, in Rosemary street, the latter excell- 
ing in embellishments. The entrance to this edifice 
is a portico, composed of ten Doric columns, with an 
elaborate balustrade, while the inside is richly orna- 
mented in stucco, and gorgeously decorated. Beside 
this there are twenty other edifices belonging to that 
denomination, Belfast bqing a sort of ecclesiastical 
metropolis for the Presbyterians, where their synods 
meet, where their publications are issued, and where 
they possess the greatest amount of wealth and 
talent. 

The educational institutions are among the best in 
the country. At the head of these is the Queen's 
college, a magnificent structure of brick and stone, 
built at an expense of more than twenty-five thou- 
sand pounds, and maintained by an allowance of seven 
thousand pounds a year from the consolidated fund. 
From the collegiate body ot this institution, which 
consists of a president, vice-president and twenty 
professors, was obtained the president of New Jersey 
College, Princeton, the Rev. Dr. McCosh. Of the 
other educational establishments, the most worthy of 
mention are the Presbyterian College, a magnificent 
building, the Royal Academical Institution, the Bel- 
fast Academy, and the Lancasterian School. But 



THE NEW CITY. 181 

beside these, there are numerous national schools and 
private seminaries. 

It was not until the following day I made most of 
these observations, though some of them were una- 
voidable on our way to the Imperial, the hotel at 
which O'Neil usually sojourned. After dinner I went 
to call on Mrs. Barrington, according to the promise 
I had made her at Londonderry. She received me 
with very marked cordiality, and introduced me to 
her son, a prosperous young merchant, to whom I am 
indebted for kind attention, valuable information, 
and an easy agreeable jaunt about the city on the 
following day. 

" You are alone ?" inquired Mrs. Barrington. 
" Here ? yes/' I replied. " But to the city I had 
the company of our friends O'Neil and Musgrave." 

" Bad company !" said the old lady. " That young 
fellow is a scape-grace ; and O'Neil — well, perhaps I 
had better not say anything against him, lest he re- 
taliate. We are antipodes — he a Papist, and I a 
Presbyterian. " 

While speaking, she wrote a few words on a card, 
which she gave to a servant, with the brief injunc- 
tion, " Forthwith," and then continued the conversa- 
tion. 

" Did you stop at Armagh, the city of St. Pat- 
rick ?" she inquired. 



182 benedict's wanderings. 

" Yes," I replied, " that I might view the city and 
country from the steps of the edifice which now stands 
upon the site of his celebrated cathedral, and that I 
might walk upon the ground trod by his feet as long 
ago as thirteen centuries." 

" Humph !" she exclaimed. " You have seen his 
city and his church, and to-morrow O'Neil will show 
you his burial place. Well, I do not object ; he was 
a great and good man, and perhaps as worthy as any 
since the Apostles, of canonization. And did you 
see the Diamond ?" 

" The Diamond ? no," I replied : 

" It is a noted place," said Mrs. Barrington ; and 
then she added, with a little laugh, "butO'NeiFs 
memory is partial. It is the spot where originated 
the Orange Societies." 

One word concerning this famous organization, for 
the benefit of such as are not familiar with its origin 
and history. Near the close of the last century, 
when the French republic was preparing to make a 
descent upon Ireland, the Catholics of Ulster asso- 
ciated themselves under the title of "Defenders," 
deeming it a favorable time to dissever their connec- 
tion with England. The penal laws prohibiting them 
from keeping arms, they were driven to the necessity 
of taking them forcibly at night. The Protestants 
becoming alarmed, patrolled the country in small 



THE NEW CITY. 183 

armed bodies to prevent the robbery. Two of these 
parties coming in contact at the Diamond, in Sep- 
tember, 1795, a conflict ensued, in which several lives 
were lost. Other affrays followed, resulting in a ter- 
rible state of insubordination, out of which arose the 
OraDge societies, so called from William, the Prince of 
Orange, the leader of the Irish Protestants in 1689. 
So effective were these institutions in Armagh, that 
they received the encouragement of the gentry of the 
neighborhood ; after which lodges were established in 
other parts of Ireland, in England and Scotland, and 
even in the colonies. It was estimated that, at one 
time, in the United Kingdom alone, the Orangmen 
numbered no less than two hundred and fifty thousand 
members. Finally, in the year 1836, in accordance 
with public sentiment, a meeting of the Grand Lodge 
of the order was summoned, and by a vote of ninety- 
two to sixty-two. the institution was formally dis- 
solved. 

After a few inquiries concerning " that bright and 
beautiful girl, Miss Nora M'Kenna," as Mrs. Bar- 
rington styled her, our conversation turned upon 
Bachelor and the young ladies of whom he was enam- 
ored. She was of my opinion, that " the captain's 
daughter" was engaged, and that " the ship's beauty " 
was a coquette. We were deep in the discussion of 



184 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



these matters, when 0' Neil and Musgrave were an- 
nounced. 

A very remarkable woman ! At the very moment 
she was calling one a Papist and the other a scape- 
grace, she was writing them an invitation to spend 
the evening at her house. In welcoming them, she 
remarked that, though they and she might differed on 
some subjects, there were enough upon which they 
could harmonize. Profiting by the hint, no illusion 
was made to any topic concerning which there could 
be an unpleasant difference of opinion. I have 
rarely spent a more enjoyable evening, or one in 
which pleasantry was so marked a characteristic of the 
conversation. 







CHAPTER XV. 



TOWN AND COUNTRY. 



tjjT^OON after breakfast the next morning, in ac- 
sSP cordance with a plan agreed upon the night 
■ T ?> before, Mrs. Barring ton. with her son to bear 
us company, took Musgrav* and myself in her carriage, 
a curious but comfortable old vehicle, and carried us 
to nearly every place she thought of interest in the 
city. First of all, we were shown the Bay of Belfast, 
of which the citizens of the metropolis of the north 
are very proud, and justly too, for it is a fine object. 
It is bounded on both sides by high hills, which partly 
encircle the city, most of which are now under culti- 
vation, while their slopes are thickly studded with the 
villas and country houses of the merchants. The bay 
is eight miles wide at the mouth, and gradually nar- 
rows to the mouth of the river, thirteen and a half 
miles from the ocean. The river in front of the city 
is two hundred and fifty yards wide, and is crossed by 
three bridges, two of which are not entitled to any 
special notice, while the third — one of the observable 



186 benedict's wanderings. 

objects — is an elegant stone structure of five arches, 
each of fifty feet span. 

Having viewed the harbor with its large shipping, 
second only to that of Dublin, we took a survey of 
the superb structure in which the harbor commission- 
ers have their offices, and then proceeded to visit the 
educational institutions, and afterwards the churches, 
all of which I have already mentioned and sufficiently 
described. One of these churches, a Presbyterian 
edifice, — though I have forgotten which one, there are 
so many of that denomination, — Mrs. Barrington 
pointed out to me as the house in which originated 
the great temperance reformation in Ireland. 

"It was in 1829, the same year it commenced in your 
own country,'' she remarked. " The pastor of that 
church, Rev. John Edgar, D.D., a man distinguished 
for his superior abilities, had been appointed to write 
an address to the people against the desecration of 
the Sabbath. While engaged in its preparation, he 
was visited by Dr. Penny, of America, who told him 
of the great temperance movement in the United 
States. Dr. Edgar immediately prepared and pub- 
lished an appeal to the people in behalf of temperance 
societies. That was in August, and before three 
years had elapsed, upwards of two hundred and 
thirty thousand small works on Temperance had been 
issued from the press of Belfast/' 



TOWN AND COUNTRY. 187 

I was truly surprised at the vast number of publi- 
cations in so brief a period, on a subject which now- 
a-days we regard as hackneyed ; but I could not re- 
press a smile at the pride manifested by the old lady 
in making the statement. 

"I see," said she. "You deem so many works a 
superfluity. But you will not when I tell you that in 
the very year of the reformation, more than twenty- 
seven million five hundred thousand gallons of proof 
spirits were consumed in the United Kingdom, the 
cost of Ireland's share being over six millions ster- 
ling, or an average of three guineas for each family.' 

In another part of the city, Mrs. Barrington 
pointed out an old building, kept by repairs in a 
very good state of preservation, with the remark : " I 
cannot hope to vie with our friend O'Neil in the dis- 
play of antiquities ; but in that old building, it is 
said, was printed the first Bible ever published in 
Ireland, in the year 1704." 

Among the other places of note we visited, was the 
Belfast Museum, a very beautiful building, contain- 
ing a large collection of Irish antiquities, and the 
Botanical Garden, next to that of Dublin the finest 
in Ireland. Another building of attractive appear- 
ance, was the Bank of Belfast, the style of architec- 
ture being a mixture of Doric and Corinthian. 

At length, having an engagement with 0' Neil for 



188 benedict's wanderings. 

the afternoon, Musgrave and I were obliged to return 
without having seen all the notable jalaces. We had 
our lunch at the house of Mrs. Barrington, a delicious 
repast, and remained in conversation with her until 
O'Neil called at the door to take us in a jaunting-car 
to the country. 

The first object we visited was Cave Hill, about 
two miles from the city. It takes its name from three 
caves, visible on its perpendicular side, but of no con- 
siderable magnitude. It is chiefly attractive for the 
magnificent view which it affords of the surrounding 
country. On the summit is a dilapidated earth work, 
of which O'Neil said : " Here are the ruins of one of 
the strong-holds of Brian M'Art, a brave man, whose 
clan was exterminated in the reign of Queen Eliza- 
beth." 

From Cave Hill we proceeded to Castlereagh, 
another hill about the same distance from the city. 
On the latter, for a very long period, stood a curious 
piece of antiquity, the stone chair on which the 
O'Neils, of Castlereagh, were inaugurated. After des- 
ignating the place which it is supposed to have occu- 
pied, 0' Neil gave us an account of its subsequent ad- 
ventures. 

" Con O'Neil," said he, " was the last chief of 
Castlereagh, the branch of the family from which T 
descended. After his ruin and the downfall of his 



TOWN AND COUNTRY. 



189 



family, in the reign of James I., the coronation chair 
was thrown down by his enemies. In this condition 
it remained until about the year 1650, when Stewart 
Banks, Sovereign of Belfast, caused it to be removed 
to the town and built into the wall of the Butter 
Market, where it was used as a seat for nearly two 







THE CORONATION CIIAIR. 

centuries. A few years ago, at the taking down of 
the market, it was mixed with other stones and 
rubbish, and w T as about to be broken, when Thomas 
Fitzmorris took possession of it, and removed it to a 
little garden in front of his house, in Lancaster street, 
Belfast. There it remained until 1858, when it was 
purchased from him for a young gentleman of culti- 
vated mind and elegant tastes, K. C. Walker, of 



190 benedict's wanderings. 

Granby Row, Dublin, and Rathcarrick, in the county 
of Sligo, who had it removed to the latter place, 
where it is preserved with the care due to so interest, 
ing a monument." 

" What was the appearance of this coronation 
chair ?" I inquired. 

"It was made of common whin-stone," replied 
O'Neil. " The seat was a little lower than that of an 
ordinary chair, and the back higher and narrower. 
Of course it was rudely constructed." 

" There is no question respecting its antiquity ?" 
queried Musgrave. 

" There is none respecting its authenticity," replied 
O'Neil, proudly. " The branch of the O'Neils to 
whom it appertained, shot off from the parent stem in 
the tenth century, and is still represented by the pres- 
ent Earl O'Neil. The chair may have belonged to 
the ancient chiefs of the district ; to that extent there 
is doubt concerning its antiquity. There was, and 
probably still is, another stone chair on which the 
O'Neils of Tyrone, the chief branch of the family, 
were inaugurated. It is marked in some of our maps 
under the name of ' the stone where they make the 
O'Neils.' " 



CHAPTER XVI. 

ST. PATRICK'S HOME. 

(^tttiFTER visiting two or three other places of less 
note and no especial interest, we returned in 
9 time for the train to Downpatrick, the capi- 
tal of county Down, near the mouth of the Quoyle, 
where we arrived while it was yet light enough to dis- 
tinguish objects and beauties. It is one of the oldest 
towns in Ireland, and one of the most noted, having 
been the- established residence ot the native kings of 
Ulster, and the dwelling place of St. Patrick. Indeed, 
it was here the patron saint died and was buried, in 
the year 493, his remains being deposited in the abbey 
of Down, as were, subsequently, those of St. Bridget 
and St. Columb-kill. The town consists chiefly of 
four streets, and is divided into English, Irish and 
Scotch quarters, corresponding to the nativity of the 
inhabitants. O'Neil resided in the Irish quarter, and 
like his royal ancestors, was a king in his domin- 
ion. He lived in good style, and kept his carriage, if 
any thing more antique than Mrs. Barrington's, upon 




192 benedict's wanderings. 

which was the escutcheon of the 0' Neil's — the Ked 
Hand. In the parlor of his house, hung a large pic- 
ture of the ensigns armorial of this distinguished 
family, entitled underneath — " The Bloody Hand." 

Observing that my attention was at- 
tracted by this picture, O'Neil said : 
"It represents the incident that led to 
the ascendency of the O'Neils. When 
Ireland was conquered by the Milesians, it was per- 
mitted to the party who descended upon Ulster, that 
the one who should first touch the ground should be 
its chief. As they approached the shore, O'Neil, one 
of their number, cut off his hand and threw it on the 
bank. It was decreed that he was entitled to the 
distinction, and from him sprung the royal race. It 
is an authentic representation of the ancient arms of 
the family, copied from the signet ring of the cele- 
brated Turlogh Lynnoch, found a few years ago 
near Charlemont, in the county of Armagh." 

As we were not expected at Donnpatrick, until the 
day following, dinner had been served at the usual 
hour, and was over before our arrival ; but to make 
amends, we had an early supper. The family of our 
host consisted of his wife, a very dignified lady, and 
two daughters, fifteen and seventeen, somewhat bash- 
ful, but well instructed and intelligent ; of course not 



st. Patrick's home. 193 

to the extent of Nora M'Kenna, whose father had 
spared no expense on her education. 

After supper the young ladies entertained us with 
some Irish music, both vocal and instrumental. The 
elder played us a native air on the bagpipe — the 
Irish bagpipe, a soft and melodious instrument, very 
unlike that which the Highland Scotch use in bat- 
tle, — and the younger, using the harp as an accom- 
paniment, sang us in the most touching manner, that 
famous melody of Moore : 

" The harp that once through Tara's halls 

The soul of music shed, 
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 

As if that soul were fled. 
So sleeps the pride of former days, 

So glory's thrill is o'er, 
And hearts that once beat high for praise, 

Now feel that pulse no more. 

No more to chiefs and ladies bright 

The harp of Tara swells ; 
The cord alone that breaks at night, 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
Thus freedom now so seldom wakes, 

The only throb she gives 
Is when some heart indignant breaks, 

To show that still she lives. 

" No one can realize how true and touching are 
these words," said O'Neil, " until he beholds the 
ruins of the Hill of Tara, in remote antiquity the 
chief seat of the Irish monarchs, whence the laws for 
the government of Ireland were promulgated down to 



194 



BENEDICT S WANDEEINGS. 



the middle of the sixth century, during which period 
there reigned over Ireland one hundred and forty-two 
monarchs, the last six of whom were Christians. 
Nothing whatever remains of its former grandeur and 
glory, and the spot is now marked by a pillar of 
modern construction. 




HILL OF TiJL*. 



"On the Hill of Tara stood the famous coronation 
chair of the monarchs of Ireland, called ' The Fatal 
Stone.' This mode of inauguration is of very remote 
antiquity in Ireland, and is believed to have been in- 
troduced even before the arrival of the Milesians, by 
the Tuatha de Danan colony, who brought the stone 
with them into Ireland. It was supposed that in 
whatever country this stone was preserved, a * prince 
of the Scythian race would govern, and in conse- 
quence it was sent to Scotland for the coronation of 
Fergus, first king of the Scots, who was of the blood 



st. Patrick's home. 195 

royal of Ireland. Thence it was used in the corona- 
tion of the Scottish kings at Scone, down to 1296, 
when it was conveyed to Lonckm by Edward the Con- 
fessor, and placed in Westminister Abbey, where it 
has been ever since appropriated to the inaguration 
of the monarchs of Great Britain." 

At this point, Mrs. O'Neil interupted her husband, 
to inform him that a suppliant was at the door. 
"Who is it?" said O'Neil. A young fellow, of 
twenty-five years perhaps, stepped upon the thresh- 
hold and said : "Teddy Conron, your tinant, is dead. 
An' if you'd have no objection, why, I'd slip up a while 
to the house. He's a distant relation of my own, and 
blood's thicker than wather, you know. An' thin, 
let me see, it's two or three years, any how, since I've 
been to a wake." 

" You can go," said O'Neil. " But stay a bit. 
Bridget, bring me a jug that will hold a gallon. I'll 
give ye something, Barney, to keep your eyes open to 
the peep of day." 

O'Neil passed from the room, and after a few min- 
utes returned with a jug of poteen, which he put 
down by Barney, saying : "It will taste just as well if 
my name is not mentioned." 

" A thousand thanks to your honor,' 1 said Barney, 
plucking his fore-lock, " for it's a fine prisent, to be 
sure ; but clivil a drap of it will ever enter any man's 



196 benedict's wanderings. 

mouth till he spakes the praises of the giver." So 
saying, he took up the jug and trudged away. 

O'Neil smiled, and when Barney was beyond ear 
shot, inquired of me — " Have you ever been at a 
wake ?" " An Irish wake ? — never," I replied. 
" Well," said he, " at bedtime we'll look in for a 
moment upon the watchers." 




WT <>— aBK 






CHAPTER XVII. 



THE IRISH WAKE. 




, : S 



|HE intermediate time having been spent in 
song-singing, in which Mnsgrave and I par- 
ticipated, he at least with credit, — I sing best 
on the ocean, — at about ten o'clock, CTNeil and my- 
self (Musgrave being weary preferred to retire) went 
up to the house in which lay the corpse of Teddy 
Conron. The doors and windows being open, I saw 
as we approached, that the room was full of men and 
women, nearly all in a high state of excitement. On 
a table in the center of the room, stood the jug O'Neil 
had given to Barney, steaming at the mouth, for the 
poteen had been converted into punch, and by the 
side of the jug was a dish of tobacco. Around these 
were glasses and pipes, from which the people pres- 
ent drank and smoked as much and as often as they 
desired. As we entered the house, I was nearly suf- 
focated with the fumes of tobacco smoke, snuff and 
whiskey. 



198 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



The appearance of 1 Neil was the signal for a gen- 
eral burst of grief among the relatives of the deceased, 
who chanted mournfully, in Irish, some rising 
to their feet and swinging their arms, as if in the 
greatest possible distress ; and I should certainly 
have thought them so, had I not seen them but a 

jjiiiiiiiiiuMuy^^^ 




THE IRISH WAKE. 

moment before, drinking and smoking without either 
cries or tears. The substance of what they said, as 
it was afterwards explained to me, was as follows : 
" 0, Teddy, Teddy, you're lying low, this evening 
of sorrow— lying low, are you, and does not know who 
it is [alluding, to O'Neil] that is standing over you, 
weeping for a faithful follower, he respected for his 



THE IRISH WAKE. 199 

honesty. It's yourself would warmly welcome him 
under your roof, and feel yourself honored in his pris- 
ence. Are ye not now stretched in death before him ; 
and if ever any thing went amiss, will he not forgive 
you ?" And much more to the same effect, all ex- 
temporaneously uttered. 

When this outburst of grief had in a measure sub- 
sided, Peter Kelly, a near relation of the deceased 
came forward and addressed O'Neil : — " Grod knows, 
sir, that poor Teddy, heavens be his bed ! had the 
regard for your honor, and for your family, 
and for your father's family afore you ; for he 
was an oultler man than your honor, may the 
Clod of heaven presarve and bliss you ! and it's him- 
self that would be the proud man, if he was living, to 
see you, sir, riding after his coffin ?" 

O'Neil replied that he had friends visiting him, 
and that his first duty was to them as his guests ; 
but that if they would excuse him for the time, he 
would certainly attend the funeral. In an under tone, 
I said to him : " If it would not be deemed an intru- 
sion, we will bear you company ?" " It would be 
esteemed a great honor/' he replied, in like manner ; 
and then added, aloud : " I shall come, Peter, and 
bring my friends with me." 

Kelly was profuse in his thanks, as well to me as to 



200 benedict's wanderings. 

O'Neil ; and nearly all present called for the bless- 
ings of God upon our heads. 

As a last mark of respect to poor Teddy's memory, 
we were requested to take a glass of wine, brought 
from a small side-cupboard. O'Neil poured a glass 
and handed it to me, and then another for himself, 
which he lifted to the level of his eye, and said : " A 
kind husband, a dutiful father, a true friend, an 
honest, industrious man ! Such was Teddy Conron. 
Requiescat in pace."" 

Another burst of grief ensued, mingled with greater 
blessings on the head of the panegyrist. But when 
it was over, O'Neil added : " And now, my friends, 
that you may have a creditable funeral, and manage 
every thing with propriety, let me request, in turn, 
that you will not get drunk, nor permit yourselves to 
enter into any disputes or quarrels, but be moderate 
in what you take, and let every thing be conducted 
decently and in order." 

Having received assurances of sobriety from all 
present, O'Neil and I departed, leaving them to re- 
new their smoking and drinking, and their eulogies 
upon the dead ; for it is never with the Irish, as An- 
thony said at the funeral of Caesar, — 

" The evil that men' do lives after them, 
The good is oft interred with their bones :" — 

they forget all the failings of him they are about 



THE IRISH WAKE. 201 

to bury, and magnify his virtues in language of the 
utmost extravagance. 

As we returned to liis residence, O'Neil remarked, 
in explanation, possibly in extenuation, of this re- 
markable if not peculiar custom of the Irish : — " To 
the people of another country, and even to Irishmen 
whose rank in life places them far from the customs, 
prejudices, and domestic opinions of their native poor, 
scenes such as you this evening witnessed, are some- 
times thought to be insincere, as they mingle sor- 
row with sociability, and weeping and wailing with 
wine and wassail. But the character of our poor is 
made up of extremes — on the one hand mirtii, on the 
other misery ; at the wake these extremes meet, 
and sometimes mingle in a most ludicrous manner. 
There is something extremely touching in the Irish 
cry ; it breathes the very spirit of wild and natural 
sorrow ; and yet an Irishmen, sunk in the lowest 
depths of affliction, cannot permit his grief, even for 
a day, to flow uninterrupted. At the same time, 
it would be unjust to say that he is incapable of sen- 
timent, or of the deepest sorrow. The truth is, he 
dissipates with laughter the heavy vapors which hang- 
about the moral constitution of the people of other 
nations, giving them a morbid habit, which leaves 
them neither strength nor firmness to resist calamity, 
and often leads to crime or suicide/' 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



THE CASTLES .OF ARDGLASS. 

HCwOR the next day, O'Neil had planned an excur- 
$£$. % sion to Ardglass, a sea-coast town seven miles 
from Downpatrick. to view the remains of the 
ancient castles, which are among the most extensive 
ruins of the kind in the country. The party included 
Mrs. CTNeil and daughters, who, with Musgrave, 
were to occupy the carriage, while O'Neil and myself 
followed on horseback. Before taking the road to 
Ardglass, however, O'Neil showed us all the objects 
of interest in the town and vicinity, including the 
public buildings. The principal object of attraction 
is the cathedral, a modern structure, erected on an 
eminence to the west of the town. It is a stately, 
embattled edifice, chiefly of unhewn stone, supported 
by buttresses, having a square tower at the west end. 
" St. Patrick," said O'Neil, " founded two religious 
establishments here, one of which, the cathedral, oc- 
cupied the site of this edifice. It does not appear 
when that church was destroyed, but another, known 



THE CASTLES OF ARDGLASS. 203 

as St. Patrick's cathedral, was erected on the same 
spot, in the year 1412. This edifice was destroyed in 
the year 1538, by Lord de Grey, who was afterwards 
beheaded. The profanation of this church was one 
of the articles exhibited against him when he was im- 
peached." 

The following are the charge and specification 
against Lord de Grey, alluded to by O'Neil ; I cop- 
ied them, after our return from Ardglass, from an 
ancient record in his possession, and have carefully 
preserved them in their original form : 

" He rased St. Patrike his church in Downe, an 
oil auncient citie of Ulster, and burnt the monuments 
of Patrike, Brigide, and Colme, who are said to be en- 
toomed. This fact lost him sundrie harts in that 
countrie." — " Item, that without any warrant from 
the king or councell, he prophaned the church of St. 
Patrike, turning it to a stable after plucking it downe, 
and stript the notable ring of the bels that did hang 
in the steeple, meaning to have them sent to Eng- 
land, had not God of his justice, prevented his in- 
iquitie, by sinking the vesell and passengers wherein 
said bels should"\have been conveid." 

Above the east window, in the present cathedral, 
are three niches, which formerly contained the remains 
of the mutilated effigies of St. Patrick, St. Bridget, 
and St. Columb-kill ; and over their tomb, or tombs, 



204 benedict's wandekings. 

ft is said, was written, in old monkish verse, a distich, 
thus rendered into English : 

"One tomb three saints contain, one vault below 
Does Bridget, Patrick and Columba show." 

On an elevated spot, not far from the cathedral, but 
without the consecrated grounds, were the remains of 
an old tomb, which is said to mark the burial place of 
Magnus, King of Norway. "It is not known when 
the tomb was erected," said O'Neil, "but the grave 
was filled in the reign of Murchard O'Brien. Magnus 
sent O'Brien a pair of his old shoes, with orders to 
wear them upon his shoulders on the birth-day of the 
Lord, in token of submission to his power. The King 
of Ireland caused the ears of the Norway commission- 
ers to be cut off, and then returned the shoes with the 
intelligence. Magnus, exasperated with the insult, 
resolved to revenge himself by the subjugation of Ire- 
land. He landed a large body of troops in Ulster, 
where he commenced hostilities ; but being surrounded 
by the Irish militia, he and his suite were killed." 

The ruins of Ardglass consist of the remains of 
several ancient castles, and a long range of castellated 
houses, called by the inhabitants the New Works. 
The period is not recorded at which any of the castles 
was erected, but the castellated houses, of a much later 
date, are said to have been built by Shane O'Neil, 
about the year 1570. The largest of the castles, a 



THE CASTLES OP AllDGLASS. 



205 



fortress of considerable size and strength, but at pres- 
ent much dilapidated and falling into decay, is pop- 




king's castle. 

ularly known as the King's Castle. Of the remain- 
ing fortresses, the most remarkable is that called Jor- 
dan 1 s Castle, which, though inferior in size to the one 
just mentioned, is constructed with greater elegance 
than any other of these strongholds. Situated in the 
center of the town, it appears to have been a citadel, 
and is memorable for the gallant defence of its owner, 
Simon Jordan, who, in the Tyrone Rebellion, held out 
for three years, till he was relieved by the Lord Dep- 



206 benedict's wanderings. 

uty Mountj oy, June, 1601, who rewarded him for his 
service, as well by his own private bounty as by a 
concordatum from the Queen. Another of these for- 
tresses is called Horn Castle, and another Cloud Cas- 
tle ; but the origin of these names is unknown. There 
are also the ruins of other castles, of less moment, the 
names of which are entirely forgotten. 

The castellated houses, or new works, stand boldly 
on a rocky shore of the bay, which washes it on the 
east and north sides. The range is two hundred and 
fifty feet in length, and in breadth twenty four, while 
the walls are three feet in thickness. Its design is 
uniform and elegant, consisting of three square towers, 
one in the center and one at each end, each contain- 
ing three compartments ten feet square. The inter- 
mediate space is occupied by a range of fifteen arched 
door- ways of cut stone, and sixteen windows. As the 
doors and windows alternate throughout the range, 
there is little doubt that they were designed for shops 
or merchants' warerooms. There is a story over the 
shops, containing the same number of apartments, 
and having its own separate stone staircase. On the 
sea side there are no windows or apertures, except 
narrow loop-holes, which shows the secondary purpose 
of the building to have been a fortress, to protect the 
merchants from piratical assailants. 

"Ardglass," said O'Neil, " though now a mean vil- 



THE CASTLES OF ARDGtLASS. 207 

lage, ranked, anciently, as the principal town of trade, 
next Carrickfergus, in the province of Ulster. Its an- 
tiquity is very great, as a church was founded here by 
St. Patrick. 

" During the various civil wars in Ireland, the cas- 
tles of Ardglass frequently changed masters. About 
the year 1578, they were taken from the O'Neils, after 
a stout resistance, by Sir Nicholas Bagual, Marshal 
of Ireland, who placed in them a strong garrison. But 
they again fell into the possession of the Irish, in the 
memorable rebellion of 1641. 

" Ardglass formerly gave the title of Earl to the 
family of Cromwell, and afterwards that of Viscount 
to the family of Barrington, to which belong our 
worthy friends of that name in Belfast." 

At the north-east point of the harbor, there is a 
singular lime-stone cavern, about sixty feet in extent. 
After visiting this curiosity, we returned to Down- 
patrick, where we arrived in time for dinner. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE BLARNEY STONE. 

vWi |fOUR days of the week to which I had 

|sft ft limited myself in Ireland, having already 

'■uy] v-> 

^JSp transpired, with Carrickfergus and the Giant's 

Causeway yet to visit, I was obliged to' decline 
the pleasure of another excursion, proposed by 
O'Neil for the following day, to other objects of 
interest in the vicinity of Downpatrick. Of these, 
the most noteworthy was an ancient well, which, in 
former times, was highly esteemed by the superstitious 
peasantry for its supposed medicinal qualities ; and 
which, even now, is resorted to by Roman Catholic 
pilgrims, as a place of sacred memories. There were 
also the ruins of an ancient cathedral, and a remarka- 
ble mound of so great antiquity that its origin and 
use are at the present day unknown. 

As I intended, upon leaving the causeway, to pro- 
ceed to Londonderry rather than return to Belfast, I 
reckoned on the company of Musgrave, and I was not 
a little surprised and disappointed when he expressed 



THF BLARNEY STONE. 209 

his determination to continue his course southward as 
far as the city of Cork. 

" There are several places," said he, " which I can- 
not leave Ireland without having seen. When I re- 
turn home, I must have it in my power to say that I 
visited Dundalk, where Edward Bruce, the last King 
of Ireland, was crowned ; and Dublin, the capital of 
the kingdom ; and Tara, the seat of the sovereigns 
of Ireland ; and Cashel, where the kings of Munster 
resided ; and the world-renowned Blarney Castle/' 

" The places you propose to visit," said O'Neil, 
"are among the most interesting in. the country. 
Dundalk, beside being the place where Lord Edward 
Bruce was crowned, was also the place of his residence 
for the two years he reigned over Ireland, and the 
place of his death in battle with the English under 
Sir John Birmingham, and the place of his burial. 
Dundalk is also noted for the sieges it sustained from 
Bruce, from the O'Neils, and from Lord Inchiquin in 
1640. In Dublin you might spend a month to ad- 
vantage. Of Tara there is nothing left except the 
hill, which, as I informed you last evening, is marked 
by a pillar of modern construction. It is otherwise 
with Cashel, a town of about 7,000 inhabitants, situ- 
ated in the midst of a fertile district, at the foot of 
the far-famed Rock of Cashel, a limestone height, 
which, rising above the adjacent country, is seen at a 



210 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



very great distance from every direction by which it 
is approached. Cashel, though the favorite residence 
of the kings of Minister, is famed for other facts : for 
centuries it has been the seat of an archbishop ; in the 
middle of the fifth century, a synod was held there by 




HILL OF CASHEL. 

St. Patrick and other ecclesiastics ; King iEngus is 
said to have commemorated his conversion to Chris- 
tianity, by the erection of a church upon the rock ; 
and the cathedral was erected by Donald O'Brien, 
king of Limerick, about 1109. Near the town are the 
remains of Hore Abbey, and of a Dominican priory. 
The ruins upon the rock consist of a round tower, a 
chapel of Saxon and Norman architecture, O'Brien's 
cathedral, a castellated palace, and the Abbey of iEn- 
gus, all within an enclosed area. This is the most in- 
teresting assemblage of ruins in Ireland." 

" You have omitted to say anything of Blarney 



THE BLAENEY STONE. 211 

Castle ?" said Musgrave, with an accent of interroga- 
tory. 

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed O'Neil. " I suspected as 
much. It is the Blarney Stone you are after. Come, 
now, what says the poet ?" 

Pale as he was, the young man blushed, for he 
feared — his motive being suspected — that he might be 
turned into ridicule ; nevertheless he complied with 
O 1 Neil's request : 

"There is a stone there, 
That whoever kisses, 
Oh, he never misses 

To grow eloquent. 
'Tis he may clamber 
To a lady's chamber, 
Or become a member 
Of Parliament. 

A clever spouter 
He'll sure turn out, or 
An out and outer 

To be let alone ! 
Dont hope to hinder him, 
Sure he's a pilgrim 

From the Blarney Stone." 

' You see, young man," said O'Neil, with a smile, 
" I use my eyes, and ears, and understanding. I am 
sorry you have no flesh on your bones, no blood in 
your veins ; for had you, I should help you with a 
bit of advice." 

" I intend to have both," said Musgrave. " I have 



212 benedict's wanderings. 

already commenced. A year hence I shall be as 
round and rosy as a child." 

"I wish it may be so," returned CNeil, " for the 
1 colleen bawn ' is too dear a treasure to be wed to a 
skeleton. So, I shall advise you on one condition — 
that you do not see her again, voluntarily, until you 
have gained ten pounds of flesh." 

" !" exclaimed Musgrave, joyfully, " I can make 
you that promise conscientiously, for I have gained 
half that since the day I sailed." 

"Well, then," said O'Neil, "it is this— be sure 
you kiss the right stone. Samuel Lover, in one of his 
songs, thus describes the location and virtues of this 
famous talisman : 

' Oh ! say, would you find this same Blarney ? 
There's a castle not far from Killarney ; 
On the top of its wall, 
(But take care you don't fall,) 
There's a stone that contains all this blarney. 

Like a magnet, its influence such is, 
That attraction it gives all it touches ; 

If you kiss it, they say, 

That from that blessed day 
You may kiss whom you please, with your blarney.' 

There is a stone kept on the floor of the first apart- 
ment you enter, which you will be told is the true 
stone ; and if you know better, they will insist that 
it has the same virtue. Believe it not. The Blarney 
Stone is situated — not, as Lover says, ' On the top of 



The blarney stone. 213 

its wall' — but at the northern angle, about twenty- 
feet below the summit. His warning is appropos, 
' But take care you don't fall,' for it is difficult to 
reach ; it is for that reason they claim to have found 
another stone containing the same virtue. The true 
stone is where I have said, and bears this inscription ; 
1 Cormach MacCarthy fortis ml fiori fecit, 1446.' 
Kiss that, and no other ; and kiss it twice, for though 
once might suffice for the ' colleen bawn,' you will not 
find it so easy to wheedle O'Keeife." 

" Whence came the reputation of this stone ?" I 
enquired. 

" No one knows," replied O'Neil. " The tact is 
not even preserved in tradition. All we know at this 
day is, that the peasantry, in former times, firmly be- 
lieved in its virtue. Indeed, many still believe in it 
to a certain extent. As for myself, I will say this, 
that there is not in the whole castle, another stone 
which has the virtues ascribed to the one bearing the 
inscription." 

" I presume," said I, interrogatively, " that the 
celebrity of the castle is due to the reputation of the 
Blarney Stone ?" 

" Mainly, beyond a doubt," replied O'Neil. " But 
the castle itself is by no means an object of insignifi- 
cance. It was long the residence of the younger 
branch of the royal race of MacCarthy, by whom it 



THE BLARNEY STOKE. 215 

was erected in the fifteenth century. The dungeon is 
a hundred and twenty feet high, and the lower re- 
mains, though less massive, were so strong as to have 
rendered it impregnable before the introduction of 
gun-powder. Underneath are curious caves, natural 
or artificial, made in the rocky foundation. Adjoining 
the castle are the celebrated Groves of Blarney, which 
are still beautiful. It is said they were formerly 
adorned with statues, grottoes, fountains, and bridges ; 
but all these have disappeared." 






CHAPTER XX. 



THE ANTIQUARY. 



iiSJlfeHE evening of that day was spent as the pre- 
s m&|| vious one had been, a1 the house of 0' Neil, 
o«|jw with himself and family, and was one of the 
happiest of my life. Indeed, there was everything to 
make it so, save the presence of my wife and children. 
Mrs. O'Neil was an extraordinary conversationist, as 
intelligent as she was fluent and agreeable. The 
music of the daughters was as sweet and varied as 
any I ever listened to from amateurs. As to O'Neil, 
his wit and humor overflowed in all directions, and 
his hospitality was perfect in every particular. I con- 
tributed a few of my best anecdotes to the entertain- 
ment, and Musgrave sparkled like a diamond. On 
separating for the night, O'Neil remarked to me, in 
an undertone : " The Blarney Stone may give that 
young man power among women, but it can scarcely 
increase his eloquence." 

At the station the next morning, after the train to 
the southward had borne him from our presence, 



THE ANTIQUAKY. 217 

O'Neil paid Musgrave other compliments of similar 
character. I was pleased with the change that had 
taken place in the opinion he entertained of my young 
countryman ; at the same time sorry O'Keeffe and 
McQuinlan could not hear his praises — and I said 
something to that effect. 

"The Antiquary" — it was thus O'Neil usually 
spoke of the reverend father — " is as quick as any 
man to discern a superiority, even though he may 
not shoAv his appreciation. As to O'Keeffe, and even 
O'Reilly, they are blinded by selfishness ; as I my- 
self was, at the first, by prejudice. Still, — " 

He paused, and I supplied : "I have the assurance 
of the Rev. Dr. Gabler, that he is a very excellent 
young man, every way worthy of the ' colleen bawn' ; 
and I am fully satisfied that, with proper care, his 
health will, in time, and at no distant day, be com- 
pletely restored." 

" In that case," replied O'Neil, "he has my best 
wishes, and at the proper time, if it ever comes, shall 
receive my hearty congratulations.'" 

At parting, O'Neil expressed much regret that it 
was impossible for him to accompany me to the 
Giant's Causeway, and hoped I might meet some one, 
familiar with the country, who would bear me com- 
pany. Then he gave me a letter addressed to Father 



218 benedict's wanderings. 

McQuinlan, with the request that I should deliver it 
in person on my return to Londonderry. 

Arrived at Belfast, almost the first person I saw 
was Father McQuinlan, who stood near the gateway, 
noting the passengers as they came from the carriages. 
On perceiving me, he advanced quickly, and extend- 
ing his hand, greeted me with much cordiality. Af- 
ter the customary compliments, I gave him 0' Neil's 
letter ; and upon reading it, he remarked : " Our 
good friend informs me that you proceed at once to 
the Giant's Causeway. If you can put up with 
my poor society, I shall be delighted to bear you 
company as far as Carrickfergus ?" 

I assured him it would afford me the highest pleas- 
ure, and expressed the hope that he might be able to 
accompany me all the way back to Londonderry. " If 
it would add to your pleasure," he said, " I should do 
so willingly, provided you can spare the time to make 
a diversion to the ruins of the abbey of Bona-marga?" 
As such an excursion would only add to my pleasure, 
I immediately consented ; but when I proposed to 
pay the expenses, he objected ; and when I insisted, 
he confessed that he had come to Belfast, at the de- 
sire of O'Neil, purposely to bear me company, and 
that in the letter I had brought him was money to 
cover his expenses. 

So surprised was I at the extraordinary kindness of 



tiJe antiquary. 219 

O'Neil, that I could find no words to express my 
gratitude. I fell back on the poet, and simply said — 
"A fine ould Irish gintleman ! " "Yes," replied 
the reverend father, with a smile, " one of the rael 
ould sthock !" 

When I came to understand the true state of the 
case, I knew precisely what to do ; and at once I as- 
sumed the management of our movements. Father 
McQuinlan essayed a little opposition, but I put it 
down quietly, leaving the gift of O'Neil intact for ob- 
jects of charity. 

Having settled this matter, we were soon on our 
way to Carrickfergus, one of the most ancient and 
famous towns in Ireland. It is not known when or 
by whom it was founded, but for centuries it has held 
a prominent place in the annals of the country. The 
castle was built in 1128, by John de Courcey, who 
had received from Henry II., a grant of all the land 
he might conquer in Ulster. In 1315, it was be- 
seiged and conquered by Lord Edward Bruce, and for 
a time was the habitation of his brother Robert, the 
great king of Scotland. In 1576, there were added 
to the castle other fortifications, of which there are 
still some remains. During the wars of 1641, the 
town was alternately in the occupation of the Scotch, 
English and Irish ; and its records at that period are 
appalling. In 1689, William of Orange landed just 



220 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



under the castle walls ; and the stone upon which he 
is said to have "first put his foot," is still pointed 
out. In 1760, "both the town and castle were cap- 
tured hy a French fleet under Commodore Thourot ; 
but after a short possession, troops gathering from all 




CAKKIOKFEBGUS. 



parts of the country, the conquerors were constrained 
to give them up and return to their vessels ; and two 
days afterwards they were attacked by an English 
Squadron, when Commodore Thourot was killed and 
his ships captured. 

At present, though a parliamentary and municipal 
borough, a sea-port, market-town and parish, Carrick- 
fergus is a place of comparatively little importance, 
the population not exceeding four thousand. The 



THE ANTIQUARY. 



221 



town is said to have derived its name from Carraig- 
Feargusa, the rock of Fergus, after an Irish king, 
who was drowned near that place. It contains a few 
noticeable edifices, the best of which are churches and 
chapels, and charitable schools. The object of prin- 




CARIUCKFERGU3 CASTLE. 



cipal interest, however, is the castle, which is consid- 
ered one of the noblest fortresses of its time now ex- 
isting in Ireland. It is at present maintained as an 
arsenal, and occupied by a company of heavy artil- 
lery. 

The castle, adjoining the town on the south, stands 
on a rock, (the rock of Fergus,) which projects into 



222 Benedict's wanderings. 

the sea ; so that, at common tides, three sides of the 
edifice are enclosed by water. At the southern ex- 
tremity, the rock is about thirty feet in height — the 
highest point. Towards the town are two towers, be- 
tween which is the only entrance to the castle, de- 
fended by a straight passage, with embrasures for 
fire-arms. Formerly, this passage was still farther 
secured by a draw-bridge. Between the towers is a 
strong gate, above which is an aperture for letting 
fall melted lead, stones, and other missiles, on the 
heads of assailants. West of the city was a dam, 
supposed to have been for the purpose of supplying 
a ditch on the land side with water. There are two 
enclosures, encompassed by a high wall, an outer and 
inner, both of which are somewhat modernized. The 
former contains a guard room, and a barrack that was 
built in 1802. Opposite these are large vaults, said 
to be bomb proof, over which are a few neat apart- 
ments occupied by the officers of the garrison. The 
inner yard contains a small magazine, of modern con- 
struction, and several store houses. Within this yard 
is the ancient keep, or dungeon, which is a square 
tower ninety feet high, divided into five stories. The 
largest apartment, called Fergus's dining-room, was 
in the third story. The walls of this tower are eight 
feet ten inches thick, and on the top, reached by a 



THE ANTIQUAKY. 223 

spiral stone stairs, are two small houses, one of which 
covers the mouth of the passage, while the other was 
intended for a sentinel. It is believed that this tower 
was anciently used as a state prison ; it is now the 
principal magazine of the garrison. 







CHAPTER XXI. 

ANTIQUITIES. 

|HEN writing of Londonderry, I ought to 
I have included Carrickfergus among the 
walled cities of Ireland, though nothing of 
the external defences is now left except the North 
Gate. The walls were about six feet thick and 
eighteen in height, and were flanked with seven bas- 
tions, the corners of which were of cut yellow free- 
stone, different from any stone found in the neighbor- 
hood. There were four gates, North, West, Water 
and Quay, two of which were entered by draw bridges. 
The whole was surrounded on the land-side by a 
water-ditch, now nearly filled up with earth and rub- 
bish. 

The architectural style of the North Gate indicates 
the period of its erection as in the reign of James I., 
when the Gothic mode was superseded by the Roman. 
It is a picturesque ruin, which Father McQuinlan 
took me to see, and through which we passed in leav- 
ing Carrickfergus. 



ANTIQUITIES. 225 

" There is a carious tradition concerning this arch- 
way/' said the antiquary, as we were passing through 
the gate, " that it will stand until a wise man be- 
comes a member of the corporation." 

" Is the tradition as old as the archway ?" I in- 
quired. 

" It is so old that its origin is unknown," he re- 
plied. 

" Perhaps they have too high a standard of wis- 
dom ?" I suggested. 

" I know not," he returned ; " but as the old arch 
still stands, we may infer that there is not in the 
present corporation either a Solon or a Solomon." 

" The poor Carrickfergussians ! " I exclaimed. 
" It seems hardly credible that any people in this en- 
lightened age, should entertain such a silly supersti- 
tion ? " 

" They may not now — I can not say," he replied. 
"But their ancestors, not many generations back, 
were not only superstitious but wicked. It is little 
more than a hundred and fifty years since they be- 
lieved in witchcraft, and punished it with fine, im- 
prisonment, and even death. On the last day of 
March, 1711, eight respectable women were tried 
here, in the county court, for tormenting a young 
woman called Mary Dunbar, whom it was alleged 
they caused to vomit feathers, cotton-yarns, pins, and 



226 benedict's wanderings. 

buttons, and finally frightened into fits with a bolster 
that walked out of a room into the kitchen, wrapped 
in a night-gown. In their defence, it appeared that 
the accused were sober, industrious people, who at- 
tended public worship, prayed in public and private, 
and received the communion. In charging the jury, 
Judge Upton remarked upon these facts, thought it 
improbable that real witches could so far retain the 
form of religion as to frequent the religious worship 
of G-od, and gave it as his opinion that the jury could 
not bring them in guilty on the sole testimony of the 
afflicted person's visionary images. But the other 
justice, Macartney, differed from him in opinion, and 
thought the jury might, from the evidence, bring 
them in guilty. The prisoners were convicted, and 
sentenced to be imprisoned twelve months, and to 
stand four times in the pillory in Carrickfergus." 

I remarked that — " Upon the strength of their tra- 
dition, Judge Macartney might, at all times, have 
walked with perfect safety under the North Gate. 1 ' 

" Aye," said Father McQuinlan, "and the other 
judge also, and the jury, and the entire community." 

On our way back to the station, the antiquary dis- 
coursed at length on witchcraft and sorcery, and 
traced the origin of the Carrickfergussians to Caledo- 
nia, w r here the interference of evil spirits on the affairs 
of this world were recognized by king and kirk down 



ANTIQUITIES. 227 

to the year 1722, when Captain David Ross, of Lit- 
tleclean, a sheriff-depute of Sutherland, pronounced 
judgement of death for witchcraft upon an insane old 
woman belonging to the parrish of Loth — the last 
sentence of the sort ever passed in Scotland. 

We reached the station in time for the next train 
to Antrim, a town of about two thousand inhabitants, 
or Six Mile Water, near its mouth in Lough Neagh. 
The town has two good streets, Avith a church, several 
chapels, a union work-house, a court-house in which 
general and petty sessions are held, and numerous 
schools ; but not an edifice of any special importance. 
Lough Neagh is the largest body of fresh water in the 
British Isles, and in Europe is only 'surpassed by 
Geneva in Switzerland, and Ladoga and Onega in 
Russia. The waters of this lake are celebrated for 
their medicinal and petrifying properties ; they arc 
said to heal all sorts of scrofulous diseases, and turn 
wood to stone in the spare of a, few years. 

After a short sail toward the center of the lake, 
that I might form a better idea of its extent, I drank 
of the waters, which are not unpalatable, and then 
returned to Antrim, where I had left Father McQuin- 
lan for rest and refreshment. From Antrim we pro- 
ceded, in a jaunting ear, to Antrim Castle, a fine old 
structure, the seat of \7icount Massareene, the park 
and other grounds of which are very beautiful : thence 



228 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



to Shane's castle, the residence of that branch of the 
famous O'Neils, who for ages were the lords of Ulster; 
and finally to a round tower in the neighborhood, not 
as lofty as that of Devenish, but one of the most per- 
fect in Ireland. 




THE HOLESTOSE. 



On our way to the abbey of Bona-Marga, we made 
a divertion to the village of Doagh, about a mile from 
which, on a rocky eminence, stands a large whins tone- 
slab, called the Holestone. This stone is upwards of 
five feet in height above the ground, and near the 



ANTIQUITIES 229 

base six feet eight inches in circumference, and ten 
inches in thickness. At about three feet from the 
ground there is a round hole perforated through it, 
sufficient to admit a hand of ordinary size. 

" Evidently," said Father McQuinlau, " this stone 
is a work of art ; yet there is neither record nor tra- 
dition respecting its origin, or the purpose for which 
it was erected." 

" Is it the only stone of the sort in Ireland?'' I 
inquired. 

" By no means, 1 ' he replied. " Stones perforated 
in this manner are found in different parts of the 
country, particularly in the burial grounds attached 
to very ancient chinches. But they are not as num- 
erous as hitherto. Within memory, a similar stone 
stood on a hill near Cushindall, but it has entirely 
disappeared." 

" Is the holestone, like the round tower, peculiar 
to Ireland ?" 

" no ; it is also found in Scotland. In Ross- 
shire there is one that exactly resembles this ; and 
near Kirkwall is another, which is said to have been 
an altar of the Druids. The place where it stands is 
still consecrated to the meeting of lovers, who join 
hands through the stone and pledge their love and 
truth. These stones are thought to be of Eastern 
origin, as they are not uncommon in India, where 



230 



Benedict's wanderings. 



devoted people pass through them when the opening 
will admit, and when too small put the hand or foot 
through it, in order to be regenerated." 




ABBEY OF BONA-MARGA. 

It was nearly night when we reached the abbey of 
Bona-Marga. Along the coast of Antrim are a num- 
ber of picturesque ruins, whose rude and massive 
architecture evince their remote antiquity. Among 
these remains, chiefly Gothic, the only monastic 
building is the abbey. 

"It ranks among the latest of the monastic edifi- 
ces erected in Ireland," said Father McQuinlan. " It 



ANTIQUITIES. 231 

is said to have been built by Somarle McDonnal, in 
1509, for Franciscans of the third order, or strict ob- 
servance. But some think it the work of an earlier 
period, and attribute its erection to the ancient 
family of MacQuinlans, of Dunluce Castle." 

The situation of the abbey is strikingly romantic : 
in front are the ocean and Rathlin island ; behind, the 
mountain, which rises to the height of nearly 
seventeen hundred feet. It was formerly sur- 
rounded by a luxuriant forest. The chapel is one 
hundred feet in length and thirty-four in breadth. 
On the north of the choir are the refectory, cells, and 
other apartments usually attached to monastic insti- 
tutions. 

" In 1550/' said Father McQuinlan, " the Scotch 
islanders, or Redshanks, in a plundering expedition 
on the coast, discharged fiery arrows against the 
abbey, which, being covered with heath according to 
the custom of the country, took fire and was con- 
sumed together with its inmates." 






CHAPTER XXII. 



THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. 



|tff|iT was long after dark when we reached Port- 
11 pi| rush, the stopping place for visitors to the 
imfftf Griant's Causeway. The horses and even our- 
selves were weary, for we had traveled hither and 
thither along the coast, the driver said a dis- 
tance of over forty miles. We put up for the night 
at the Antrim Arms, where we were served with a 
most excellent dinner, and made otherwise comfort- 
able. 

Early next morning while our breakfast was being 
prepared, I took a short stroll through the town. It 
is situated on a promontory, Avith a deep bay on each 
side, while opposite, in full view, are the Skerries, a 
group of rocky islands that form an excellent break- 
water for the harbor. In summer it is much resorted 
to for sea-bathing, and since the opening of the rail- 
way, has become a place of considerable activity. It 
is also frequented by the steamers plying between the 
north coast of Ireland and the Clyde and Mersey. 



THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. 



233 




Ml 



DUNLUCE CASTLE. 

Shortly after breakfast we set out in a carriage for 
the Causeway, taking in our course Dunluce Castle, 
one of the most picturesque ruins in the United 
Kingdom. It, stands upon the summit of an isolated 
rock, a hundred feet above the level of the sea, and 



234 benedict's wanderings. 

is connected with the main land by. a bridge of only 
about twenty inches in width. 

" It is uncertain when or by whom it was erected," 
said Father McQuinlan. " It is generally conceded, 
however, to have been the work of DeCouncy." 

"What is its subsequent history ?" I inquired. 

" Its history is chiefly tradition," replied the anti- 
quary ; "but according to that, it has been the scene 
of many heroic adventures, and the subject of numer- 
ous romantic stories. This we know of a certainty, 
however, that it was the ancient residence of the Mc- 
Quinlans, and subsequently of the McDonalds of 
Scotland, one of whom married into the McQuinlan 
family. The castle is still in the possession of the 
Scotch family." 

Leaving Dunluce Castle, we advanced at a rapid 
rate for about three miles, when we came to the small 
town of Bushmills, on the river Bush, a stream much 
resorted to by anglers, and celebrated for the deli- 
ciousness of its trout and salmon. Had it been the 
proper season, I should have ventured to spend a day 
in the enjoyment of angling, of which Izaak Walton 
wrote, two hundred years ago, " God never did make 
a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation. " 

As it was, we drove directly through the town, and 
proceeded to the Causeway, the most remarkable nat- 
ural curiosity in the country. One must behold it, 



THE GIANT S CAUSEWAY. 



235 



to form any just conception of its magnitude. It is a 
black basalt promontory, (resembling a pier,) which 




THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. 

extends into the sea a long distance, from the base of 
a stratified rock, of great altitude. I inquired its 
dimentions, and was greatly surprised to find that, 
though so easy of measurement, its length, breadth and 
height were all a matter of conjecture. 



236 benedict's wanderings. 

" Writers also disagree on these points," said 
Father McQuinlan. " Some represent it as seven 
hundred and others a thousand feet in length ; some 
as four hundred and others six hundred feet in height ; 
some as two hundred and forty and others three hun- 
dred and fifty feet in width." 

" A very remarkable discrepancy," I suggested. 

" Nevertheless," he replied, " not so great in these 
as in some other particulars. For instance, in Har- 
per's Hand Book it is said that the number of col- 
umns are ' some four thousand,' while in Lippin- 
cott's Gazateer they are represented as ' about forty 
thousand.' " 

These columns differ in height, the greater portion 
being about twenty feet, though some are thirty, and 
a few it is said, measure thirty-six above the strand. 
They are of a prismatic structure, embracing every 
shape from a triangle to a nonrgon. 

Father McQuinlan having pointed out the objects 
of principal interest, as the Pulpit, the Chimney-tops, 
the Amphitheatre Gateway, the Giant's Well, and 
the Giant's Grandmother, (who waS petrified for hav- 
ing indulged in the luxury of three husbands at the 
same time,) we visited two of the most remarkable 
caves, of which there are many along the coast. The 
larger of these is called Dunkerry, the entrance to 
which resembles a Gothic arch. It i^ six hundred 



the giant's causeway. 237 

feet long and seventy -in height ahove low water. 
The other was Portcoon, which is three hundred and 
fifty feet in length, and forty-five in height. Several 
others of less magnitude were particularly pointed out 
to us going or returning. 

Before taking a last lingering look at the Causeway, 
Father McQuinlan remarked — " Popular legend as- 
cribes this stupendous formation to the labor of 
giants, seeking to construct a road across the sea to 
Scotland." 

" I have heard that it was the work of Fin M'Coul, 
the champion of Ireland, a giant of great power and 
prowess," I returned. " Aggrieved at the insolent 
boasting of a Caledonian giant, who sent him a mes- 
sage to the effect that if it were not for the wetting of 
himself he would swim over and give him a drubbing, 
Fin obtained leave of the king to construct a cause- 
way to Scotland, on which the Scot walked over and 
gave him battle." 

" A legend I have heard before," replied the anti- 
quary ; and then added, with a smile, " but I should 
not believe a word of it, if the Irish giant had not 
been victorious." 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



ADIEU TO ERIN. 




j^^HERE was a vessel in the harbor of Portrush, 
| about to leave for Scotland ; but though my 
week was nearly spent, I could not take my 
departure from a point so near Londonderry, without 
again seeing O'Keeffe and the " colleen bawn." 

From Portrush we traveled in the cars, passing 
through Coleraine, and arrived at Londonderry in 
time for dinner. O'Keeffe met us at the station, and 
carried us to his house, and made us heartily wel- 
come, as on a former occasion. 

The only other guest at dinner was Terrence 
O'Reilly, whose attentions to Nora were of a marked 
character. She received them quietly, but without 
any special evidence of pleasure. I observed her 
closely, but was unable to draw a satisfactory conclu- 
sion. 

Many inquiries were made about O'Neil and his 
family, and many compliments were paid to the "fine 
ould Irish gintleman" of Downpatrick; but no allusion 



ADIEU TO Eititf. 239 

was made to Musgrave, although he composed one 
of the dinner party on the previous occasion. At the 
time, I inferred that his name was taboed, or pur- 
posely avoided. Later in the evening the " colleen 
bawn," in an undertone intended only for my ears, 
inquired the condition of his health. Perceiving how 
the matter stood, I told her every thing, save what 
pertained to the Blarney Stone. 

At the request of O'Reilly, who was fond of music, 
Nora played a number of pieces, and among the rest 
a favorite waltz by Mozart. I stood at her elbow and 
turned the leaves. At the fourth, a slip of paper fell 
fluttering to the floor. An exclamation of surprise 
escaped the lips of the player, and for a moment she 
was disconcerted ; but immediately recovering her 
self-possession, she finished without further embarrass- 
ment. 

O 1 Reilly observed the slip of paper, but as it was 
nearer me, I picked it up and laid it on the piano. 
An involuntary glance revealed the hand-writing of 
Musgrave, and as I turned the leaves, I read silently, 
with the consent of Nora, signified by an almost im- 
perceptible inclination of the head : 

" Nora darling, don't believe them, 
Never heed their flattering wiles, 
Trust a heart that loves thee dearly, 
Lives but in thy sunny smiles— 



240 benedict's wanderings. 

I must leave thee, Nora darling, 

But I leave nay heart with thee ; 
Keep it, for 'tis true and faithful 

As a loving heart can be." 

At the end of the performance, she laid the slip of 
paper again between the leaves of the waltz, to avoid 
suspicion ; and presently forgot it until the next 
morning. But when she went to look for it then, — 
as she whispered me at parting, — it had been re- 
moved. 

On inquiry, I ascertained, more to my surprise 
than regret, that the only chance I had of reaching 
Scotland within the time specified, was by the way 
of Belfast. Taking the first train for that city, I 
crossed the Province of Ulster again, and embarked 
the same afternoon in the steamer. As she passed 
out of the bay into the ocean, I felt as did the poet : 

" Beautiful Isle of the sea ! 

Smile on the brow of the waters ! 
Dear are your mem'ries to me, 
Sweet as the songs of your daughters." 

I repeated these words aloud, and then turned my 

face toward the north, with the apostrophe of another 

poet on my tongue : 

" O Caledonia! stern and wild, 
Meet nurse for a poetic child ! 
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood ; 
Land of the mountain and the flood." 



PART TIT. 







CO 




II 1 1 ^f II 



■>i 




CHAPTER I. 

ACROSS THE CHANNEL. 

^ROM Belfast to Greenock, the sail was short 
|^ and satisfactory — pleasant weather, a smooth 
sea, and a settled stomach. On board the 
steamer I made the passing acquaintance of several 
gentlemen, one of whom, Mr. Blaikie, of Edinburgh, 
pointed out to me the principal objects of interest, 
among which were the islands of Arran, Bute, and 
the Cumbraes. These islands are in the Frith of 
Clyde, and on a clear day may be distinctly seen 
from the passing steamers, particularly Arran, the 
summit of which, Goatfell, is 2,900 feet above the 
sea. Bute is a favorite resort for invalids and sea- 
bathers, owing to the mildness and equability of its 
temperature. Between Kilchattan and Rothesay, on 
the eastern coast, stands Mount Stuart, the seat of 
the Marquis of Bute, the principal proprietor of the 
island. It is surrounded by woods, and delightfully 
situated, commanding views of the highest beauty and 
attraction. Rothesay, a royal burgh of nearly 8,000 



244 benedict's wanderings. 

inhabitants, and the capital of the county, was the 
birth place of John, Earl of Bute, the favorite of 
G-eorge III., and also, of Matthew Stewart, the 
famous mathematician. The Castle of Rothesay was 
formerly the residence of the kings of Scotland. 
Remembering this fact, I inquired of Mr. Blaikie its 
situation. 

"It is near the harbor," he replied; "but it is 
now a crumbling ruin, though one of the finest in 
Scotland. It was burned by the Earl of Argyle 
nearly two hundred years ago, and nothing has ever 
been done for its preservation. It is now covered and 
partially concealed with ivy, though the closet in 
which Robert III. died is still pointed out. The 
moat by which it was surrounded is nearly rilled up 
in many places, and in time, for it is already sur- 
rounded with houses, all trace of the castle will be 
destroyed by Time and the Vandals of the neighbor- 
hood." 

It seemed to me a remarkable fact that so little 
respect should be paid to this remnant of Scottish 
royalty ; but on remarking to that effect, Mr. Blaikie 
replied that the destruction by fire was so effectual 
that it could not be restored short of entire recon- 
struction. 

"It was famous in history," he remarked, "having 
been captured by the English in the reign of John 



ACROSS THE CHANNEL. 245 

Baliol, and afterwards surrendered to Robert Bruce. 
It was fortified by Edward Baliol, an*d near it Robert 
III. built a palace in which he resided. The eldest 
son of this monarch was created Duke of Rothesay in 
a council at Scone, the first ducal dignity of Scotland. 
This title descended to the eldest sons of subsequent 
Scottish kings, as it still does to the heir apparent 
of the British crown. But notwithstanding all these 
facts, the ruin by fire was so complete, as I have 
already remarked, that no effort has ever been made 
for its restoration." 

Vessels proceeding to and from Glasgow, commonly 
touch at Greenock, a city of about 50,000 inhabitants, 
situated at the mouth of the river Clyde. It stands 
chiefly on a level strip of low land, though a portion 
stretches up an abrupt height, from which grand 
views are obtained. The principal harbor, named 
Victoria from the Queen, has a depth of twenty-four 
feet, and an area of six acres. The docks are among 
the largest in Great Britain, and are famed of solid 
masonry, very greatly superior, in appearance as well 
as durability, to the slovenly wooden structures in 
America. The harbor was full of shipping, which I 
was told is the case continually. Greenock is not a 
new place, though it has wholly risen into importance 
since the beginning of the eighteenth century. 



CHAPTER II. 



THE OLD BOY 



^£22^8®r 



^#feT Greenock I hoped to . meet Bachelor, and 
was not disappointed. How glad I was to 
li^jfspa see him ! I had spent a week pleasantly in 
the " Green Isle," among people who did everything 
in their power to make my sojourn agreeable. I had 
left them and their country will) regret, even with 
reluctance. But for the moment I forgot them and 
everything in the joy of again meeting my companion, 
not of the voyage merely, but of years and years, as I 
stated at the outset. 

Observing his approach, I cried out, in the glad- 
ness of my heart — * l Ah, there's the old boy ! " 

The exclamation startled several of the passengers 
— those, I presume, who had good reason to be 
terrified ; and one of them, in a tremulous voice, 
inquired — " Where is he ? " 

" My friend," I replied, soothingly, " be not afraid. 



THE OLD BOY. 247 

For anything I know to the contrary, it is now as it 

was in the time of Kobert Burns — 

' the De'il's iu hell 

Or Dublin city.' 

I have reference to a friend of mine — the tall, good- 
looking man you see forcing his way through the 
crowd." 

There was a chuckle among the passengers, and 
the querist turned away, I thought a little disgusted. 

But the joy at meeting was not all mine. Bachelor 
seemed as glad to see me as a school-boy to get a 
holiday. 

" Old boy ! " I exclaimed, grasping his hand, 
" how are you ? " 

" Sound as a dollar," said the Bachelor, with a 
smile that spread all over his face. " How are you ? " 

" Improving, 1 ' I replied, laconically ; adding, 
almost in the same breath — "What news of our 
fellow voyagers." 

"Not much of interest," he answered. "Miss 
MacGrill, l the snip's beauty,' left the Columbia at 
this place, and embarked in another vessel for Inver- 
ness. The Count and Countess di Lavarello are in 
Glasgow, quietly waiting for a steamer to Italy. 
Mrs. Small and her daughter are at their home, to 
which they wish to welcome you as soon as convenient 
after your arrival." 



248 benedict's wanderings. 

" And the winsome widow? " I inquired. 

"Mrs. Maxwell?" 

" Yes. Why is she omitted? " 

"I did not omit her," he replied. "Her name 
was on my tongue when you spoke. But with refer- 
ence to her you are so impetuous." 

He was right, though I denied it stoutly. The 
truth is (but this, also, I remark in parenthesis, that 
it may not reach the ears of my wife), if I had not 
been a married man, I should certainly have fallen in 
love with the widow. 

" I beg your pardon. I thought you had paused." 

" Only to take breath," he replied. 

He paused again, the provoking fellow ! But it 
was no use to urge him, so I waited — I was about to 
say patiently, but it would be more nearly correct to 
say impatiently. At length, when he thought I had 
suffered sufficiently, he informed me that she was at 
the Argyle Hotel, where he was stopping. But not 
another /act could I get out of him, though I plied 
him with questions almost without number. 

But I had my revenge, then and there, as the 
lawyers say. Provoked at his evasion, I subsided 
into silence. Presently he inquired : " Have you 
nothing to communicate concerning the passengers 
who disembarked with you at Londonderry — that 
beautiful Irish girl, ' the colleen bawn/ and O'Neil, 



THE OLD BOY. 



249 



{ the fine ould Irish gentleman,' and that brilliant 
young fellow, ' John Smith,' who did the singing and 
begging for the priest? " " Nothing," I replied. He 
regarded me for a moment with astonishment. 
"Nothing," I repeated, "until you tell me all 
about the widow." 



CHAPTER III. 

OBSERVATIONS. 

pOME of the passengers left the steamer at 
Greenock, and others came aboard with Bache- 
^Ip' lor, preferring the river to the railway. Some 
of the latter had friends to see them off, and some 
of the former had friends to bid them welcome. The 
scene was one of bustle and confusion, such as occurs 
at nearly every port, yet not without interest to "a 
looker-on here in Vienna." At meeting and parting, 
some shook hands, some embraced, some kissed, and 
some did all three in turn ; some in a quiet way, and 
some with noisy demonstrations. 

I was pleased to see such manifestations of friend- 
ship and affection. I was amused as well, for the 
embracing and kissing were not confined to the sex 
"stronger by weakness," or even to the opposite 
sexes, but was considerably indulged in by " the 
lords of human-kind." I can fully appreciate 

" A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth and love," 
indeed, I am not indifferent to " kisses from a female 



OBSERVATIONS. 251 

mouth," even when there is neither youth nor love ; 

but these masculine kisses, though confined to 

brothers, or to fathers and sons, seemed to me out of 

place and unnatural, and instead of exciting my 

sympathy, as doubtless they should, inclined me to 

laughter. I was under the impression, until I saw 

these Scotchmen saluting each other with the lips, 

that 

" The cold in clime are cold in blood." 

I repeated the verse to Bachelor, after calling his 
attention to a kissing scene between two strapping 
fellows, such as a Scotch "mither" would call 
" bonnie laddies." 

" Their love can scarce deserve the name," 
he replied, quoting the succeeding verse. 

He may have alluded to the " bainie brithers" 
before us, or to " the cold in clime, v (the Scotch 
people); or — as I suspected at the moment — to " the 
captain's daughter "and " the ship's beauty," for I 
think it would be hard to say of which he was most 
enamored. 

I waited a few moments to afford him an opportun- 
ity to "rise and explain," but he failed to appreciate 
my kindness ; or, to do iiim no more than justice, he 
was " silent as the moon." 

"Whose love can scarce deserve the name?" I 
inquired, repeating the verse. 



252 benedict's wanderings. 

" Their love," he replied, with a peculiar emphasis, 
but at the same time pointing to the young Scotchmen. 

" ! " I exclaimed ; " I thought you had reference 
to " 

I paused, and he demanded quickly — "Whom? " 

"The cold in clime," T replied, with a smile. 

" The widow, for instance," he remarked, smiling 
in turn. 

" Is she cold in blood? " I inquired, with a search- 
ing glance. 

" How should I know? " he returned. " She is 
not likely to waste her time and thoughts upon a man 
with a wife and two children." 

I was at a loss to comprehend the significance of 
his remark, whether it alluded to our conversation 
with her on board the Columbia, or to some subse- 
quent interview between themselves of which I had 
as yet no knowledge. 

" A man with a wife and two children! " I repeated. 
" One who carries their photographs about with him 
in his pocket-book? " I added, hoping thereby to 
discover whether the widow had acted on the hint I 
gave her as we were nearing the port of London- 
derry. 

But he was proof against any such shallow device. 
Not a word escaped his lips, not a muscle of his face 



OBSERVATIONS. 253 

changed. I looked at him sharply, and to myself 
repeated — 

" Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, 
Which thou dost glare with ! " 

A few moments passed in silence. Meanwhile, I 
endeavored to recall distinctly all that had passed 
between the widow and myself, concerning my wife 
and children and their photographs. But I was 
unable to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion. 

Presently he broke the silence, and changed the 
conversation. He renewed his inquiries about "John 
Smith," "the colleen bawn," "the fine ould Irish 
gintleman " of Downpatrick, and Mrs. Barrington, 
whom he characterized as " the orthodox old lady of 
Belfast." 

In as few words as possible, I related of each what 
I thought would most interest him at the moment, 
leaving my own adventures, with a detailed account 
of all I had seen and heard and enjoyed, for " a more 
convenient season." 






CHAPTER IV. 



THE ESTUARY. 




kN the rising of the tide, we lifted anchor, and 
with a steam tug; before and behind, started 
up the Clyde ; which, below Dumbarton, 
becomes an estuary four miles in width, spreading 
northward into Loch Long, and southward into the 
Frith of Clyde. I regretted that I could not go on 
shore and have a look at the city. Though not a 
place of very special interest to the ordinary traveler, 
there are very many objects worthy of observation. 
Among these are the acqueducts and reservoirs by 
which the city is abundantly supplied with water, 
both for public and private purposes. Of the public 
edifices, the custom house, town hall, jail, infirm- 
ary, assembly hall, tontine, exchange and theatre 
are fine structures. There are several public libraries, 
one containing as many as 10,000 volumes. In the 
hall of this library is a statue by Chantrey of James 
Watt, the great improver of the steam engine, who 
was a native of the city. 



THE ESTUARY. 255 

On the river Clyde, ship and steamboat building is 
carried on extensively, both at Greenock and Glasgow. 
In this river was launched, by Henry Bell, the first 
stearahoat constructed in Britain ; at least, the first 
successfully propelled — the Comet. This was in 1812, 
about five years after Fulton had succeeded on the 
Hudson. It was on this river that some of the famous 
rebel rams, which destroyed so much of our shipping 
during the late civil war, were constructed. 

The ship-yards of Greenock are chiefly above the 
city, and extend up the river for a considerable 
distance. They are not so large as those of Glasgow, 
where I counted scores of iron vessels on the ways in 
process of construction. Some of these vessels were 
so near together that the same scaffolding served for 
two at the same time, while the scaffolding on the 
opposite sides served for these and two others, and so 
on to the number of a dozen, or twenty in some 
instances. 

It would require a small volume to describe all 
one sees in the short distance between Greenock 
and Glasgow. The country on both sides of the 
river was in a high state of cultivation, and in 
many of the fields the crops of the year were still 
ungathered. Manufactories of many kinds, indeed of 
almost all kinds, were to be seen on both banks, with 
no very great intervals; and at points somewhat distant 



256 Benedict's wanderings. 

from both cities, were vessels, of various kinds, in 
different stages of construction. 

Mr. Blaikie, the gentleman who pointed out to me 
the objects of interest in the frith, performed a like 
kindness for Bachelor and myself as we ascended the 
river. First, our attention was directed to the ruins 
of an old building, which he informed us was Finlay- 
ston, formerly the family mansion of the Earls of 
Gi-lencairn. It was at one time a favorite resort of 
John Knox, whom he described as " the father of the 
Scottish Reformation, and the founder of Presby- 
terianism." A short distance further on, we saw the 
ruins of Cardross Castle, where Robert Bruce, King 
of Scotland, spent the last few peaceful days of his 
existence. On the opposite shore is the Castle of 
Newark, in the days of Bruce and Wallace the resi- 
dence of Sir John Monteith, but now the property of 
Lady Shaw Stewart. 

About two miles above this ruin, we passed Dum- 
barton Castle, so called, though it is more properly 
a stronghold or fortress. It is a rock, about a mile in 
circumference, which rises nearly six hundred feet 
above the level of the river. On its sides are old 
bastions and batteries, some neglected and gone to 
decay, and on its summit are several buildings, among 
which are a barracks, armory, chapel, and governor's 
house. 



THE ESTUARY. 



257 



" William Wallace," said Mr. Blaikie, " before his 
imprisonment in the Tower of London, was confined 
in the armory of this fortress, where his famous two- 
handed sword, nearly as tall as an ordinary man, is 
still retained. Since that time to the present day, 




DUMBARTON CASTLE. 

the highest peak of the rock is called ' Wallace's 
Seat, 7 and the highest part of the castle ' Wallace's 
Tower." " 

" There must be many historical reminiscences 
connected with this old castle ? " I remarked. 

"Very many," he replied. "The infamous Sir 
John Monteith was Governor of it during the con- 
finement of Wallace, whom he had betrayed. The 
body of Edwin, son and heir of Lord Ruthven, who 



258 Benedict's wanderings. 

fell in defence of Wallace, was entombed in the 
chapel of the fortress. The castle was successively 
occupied by Charles I. and Oliver Cromwell, during 
the struggle that preceeded the Commonwealth. 
Queen Mary was conveyed thither from France, in 
her infancy; and during the wars that desolated 
Scotland in her reign, it was captured by Captain 
Crawford of Jordanhill, a distinguished adherent of 
the king's party, who, with a small body of foot 
soldiers, guided by a deserler from the castle, scaled 
the wall at the highest point, slew the sentinel, and 
surprised and overpowered the garrison. There are 
yet other important events which I do not now 
remember. Being one of the four fortresses stipu- 
lated to be kept up at the union of Scotland with 
England, it. is still in repair and occupied by a 
garrison." 



™°*«8i 




I 



CHAPTER V. 

THE ARTIFICIAL RIVER. 

fROM Dumbarton to Glasgow, what was for- 
l merly the channel of the river, with three or 
jjjP four feet of water, has, within a few years, 
been deepened and walled, so that it now forms a 
grand canal, through which vessels of a thousand 
tons can pass with ease to the centre of Glasgow. 
Prior to the construction of this canal, the goods of 
the merchants of the city were embarked and dis- 
embarked at a place called Port-Glasgow, nearly 
opposite the castle of Cardross, the importance of 
which has since greatly declined. 

Before reaching Bowling Bay, where we leave the 
estuary and enter the canal-channel, on the right 
bank, is the little promontory of Dunglass Point, the 
•western termination of Antoninus' Wall. On this 
point may be seen the ruins of Dunglass Castle, a 
formidable fortress of the Colquhouns. It is now 
the property of Buchanan of Auchintorlie, a branch 
of the family from which our President of that name, 



260 benedict's w and brings. 

was descended. On this point also, and within full 
view from passing steamers, stands the monument 
recently erected to the late Henry Bell, who, as 
already stated, introduced steam navigation on the 
Clyde. 

A short distance above Dunglass Point, is a range 
of lofty heights, known as Kilpatrick Hills, and 
between these and the river is the village of Kilpat- 
rick, by Scotch writers claimed to have been the 
birth-place of Patrick, the tutelar saint of Ireland. 
Other writers say he was born in Wales, and others 
still, that he was a native Irishman ; but I believe it 
is now generally conceded that he was born in that 
part of France which is called Boulogne. Writers 
still disagree as to his origin, some maintaining that 
he was of Roman extraction, while others claim that 
he descended from the Jewish captives, brought to 
Rome by Titus, after the destruction of Jerusalem. 
Of this there is probably no doubt, that his father 
was Calphornius. and his mother Conchessa, the 
latter a native of France ; and that his name was 
Succath, until the Pope conferred on him the Patri- 
cian order with the title of Patricius. 

To the above I may add, as facts of more than 
ordinary interest, that Succath, afterwards Saint 
Patrick, was of the two hundred natives of Boulogne 
captured by Niall, King of Ireland, in the beginning 



THE ARTIFICIAL RIVER. 261 

of the fifth century, and hy him carried to Ireland 
and sold into slavery. After seven years slave-service 
he returned to France, and was educated at Tours, in 
the famous seminary of St. Martin ; and after twenty 
years spent in study and meditation in retreats of 
piety, having received the benediction of Pope St. 
Celestine, and espiscopal consecration from Bishop 
Amatorix, in Evreux, Normandy, entered upon his 
great work, in the year 432, the conversion of Ireland. 

On the opposite side of the river we saw the old 
mansion-house of Erskine, anciently the seat of the 
Earls of Mar, and latterly of the Blantyre nobility. 
Higher up, on the same side of the river, where the 
waters of the Black and White Cart flow into the 
Clyde, Inchinnan Bridge was pointed out as near the 
spot where the Earl of Argyle was captured in the 
year 1685 ; and still higher up, the ancient burgh of 
Renfrew, now a town of mean appearance, as the 
place where Somerled, Thayne of Argyle and Lord of 
the Isles, who had rebelled against Malcolm IV., was 
defeated and slain in 1164. The barony of Renfrew 
was the first possession of the Stuart family in Scot- 
land ; and it gives the title of Baron to the Prince of 
Wales — Baron Renfrew, under which he made his 
tour in America. 

From this point to Glasgow, on both sides of the 
river, there are many pleasant suburban villas, and a 



262 



benedict's wanderings. 



number of imposing country seats, of which I shall 
only mention Jordanhill, two miles below the village 
of G-ovan, the seat of James Smith, Esquire, but 
formerly the residence of Captain Crawford, who 
distinguished himself, as already mentioned, by the 
capture of Dumbarton Castle, during the reign of 
Queen Mary. 

Entering the harbor, the object that particularly 
attracts the attention, is Broomielaw Bridge, a superior 
structure, faced with Aberdeen granite. It. consists 
of seven arches, and is five hundred feet in length, and 
sixty in width, being seven feet wider than London 
Bridge. 






CHAPTER VI. 



THE CUSTOMS. 




ERHAPS the most remarkable features of the 
| city, all things considered, are the improve- 
_JP^ ments of the river, before mentioned, and the 
accommodation provided for shipping. The harbor at 
the Broomielaw is an artificial basin, several hundred 
feet in width, and more than a mile in length, fur- 
nished with long ranges of quays and sheds, capable 
of accommodating vessels of nearly every description. 
Notwithstanding these noble improvements, however, 
the space is so limited that there was scarcely room 
when I was there for the immense shipping in the port. 
In many places the vessels were crowded so closely 
together that they almost touched as they lay at anchor. 
The number was not so great as in some other cities I 
have visited, but I remember no one in which the 
masts, yards, booms and gaffs of the craft, great and 
small, gave the harbor so much the appearance of a 
forest in winter. This effect was particularly notice- 
able as we approached the city. 



264 benedict's wandekings. 

When our vessel had brought us within sight of the 
steeples of the city, or, rather, within view of the spars 
of the great ships in the harbor Bachelor endeavored 
to prepare me for the ordeal through which I had to 
pass at the hands of the Customs' officers. At Lon- 
donderry I had given my baggage into his charge, 
retaining the keys of my trunks and valises ; and at 
Glasgow he had stored them in a Government ware- 
house, subject to inspection on my arrival. To my 
inquiry as to what these officers said -and did, he 
replied by giving a minute account of the transaction. 
Said he : "Two fellows as big as Dinnie came at me 
with a rush. I put down my valise, produced the 
key, turned the lock, opened the mouth, and exposed 
my worldly effects — principally a tooth brush and 
extra paper collar. 

" One of the officers looked into the valise and said 
nothing ; the other followed the Scripture injunction, 
1 Go thou and do likewise.' 

" Then the first officer said — ' Have you any 
tobacco? ' 

" ' Only this,' I replied, producing my box, in 
which was sufficient, perhaps, for two or three ordi- 
nary cuds. 

"Have you any liquors?' demanded the other, 
sharply. 

" ' Alas ! no,' I replied. ' A friend of mine, one 



THE CUSTOMS. 265 

Benedict, before parting from me at Londonderry, 
drank the last drop I had, that he might have some- 
thing to keep me in remembrance.' 

" l Have you any American reprints? ' demanded the 
first officer, with a scowl that made me tremble. 

" ' 0, no,' said I, quickly. 

" ' What's this? ' said he, snatching up my extra 
paper collar, and pointing to some letters impressed 
in the band. 

" ' ! ' said I, ' that is " Lockwood's improved," 
the mark of the manufacturer.' 

" ' Lockwood ! ' said he, thoughtfully; then whis- 
pered something to his companion. 

" ' Lockhart,' I think,' said the other, ' though I 
am not quite certain.' 

" The son-in-law and biographer of Scott,' said I, 
guessing at the subject of their conversation, ' was 
Lockhart.' 

"The fellow looked at me — indeed, they both 
looked at me as if they thought I was trying to 
deceive them. 

" ' However,' said I, ' if you have any doubt on 
the subject, let the article be confiscated.' ' 

At this point Mr. Blaikie, who had been listening 
to the narration, burst into laughter, and others nigh 
followed his example. I was not quite certain 
whether it was at what Bachelor had said in his 



266 Benedict's wanderings. 

inimitably funny way, or at my own lugubrious 
countenance. Indeed, I had heard such frightfu 
stories of these custom-house inspectors, or tide- 
waiters as they are called in Great Britain, that to 
me his words were 

' ' confirmations strong 

As proofs of holy writ." 

At the moment I was endeavoring to conjecture, if an 

extra paper collar occasioned so much trouble, what 

would become of my elaborate outfit for the heathen 

of Africa. 

Bachelor looked at Mr. Blaikie and smiled ; and 
the latter apologized for his boisterous interruption. 
It is perhaps needless to say, that the account of that 
inspection was left unfinished. 

Soon after, at about three o'clock, post meridian, 
we reached the Broomielaw, and I went ashore into 
the sheds, where I delivered myself over tremblingly 
to the tender mercies of the cllstoms , officers. It was 
on Friday, and I thought with myself, as I waited 
for my turn, " 0, unlucky day ! " 

Presently an officer approached, and after looking 
at a paper which Bachelor produced, conducted me 
to a room in which my baggage was secured. Next 
followed the inquiries propounded to Bachelor, but 
not precisely as he had represented : "Have you any 
liquors, tobacco, or American reprints? " On being 



THE CUSTOMS. 267 

assured that I had none, the officer carefully lifted 
the uppermost article in each of my trunks, gave a 
poke here, a push there, a squeeze in another place, 
and — the duty was performed. It seemed to me a 
very cursory examination, yet I think the fellow was 
so well satisfied that he would have taken his oath 
my baggage contained no contraband article of any 
character. I was next furnished with a customs' 
stamp, and permitted to wander whithersoever I 
desired in the Queen's dominion. 



^3^(0)3fe& 



CHAPTER VII. 



OTHER CUSTOMS, 




|N leaving the sheds, I procured a carriage for 
I Bachelor and myself, into which we entered 
3; after seeing my baggage safely aboard. Of 
course I put up at the inn where my friends were 
stopping, the Argyle Hotel, on the corner of Argyle 
and Union streets. We were driven thither at a very 
fair rate of speed, and stopped short in front of a 
great archway. Bachelor filled my arms with wraps 
and umbrellas, and said he would look after the rest 
of my baggage. I turned from the carriage and 
surveyed the house, but could discern no place of 
entrance. I concluded it was round the corner, and 
was about to start upon a voyage of discovery when 
Bachelor, who had been observing me and enjoying 
my embarassment, whispered in my ear — " Enter 
through the archway." I felt a little mortified at 
my ignorance, although I had never seen anything of 
the kind in America. 

Passing through the archway, I found myself in a 



OTHER CUSTOMS. 269 

large court-yard, where a flight of broad steps led up 
to a hall or passage. This I entered, and looked for 
an office, bar-room, or some other apartment where I 
might relieve myself of the load I had ; but nothing 
of the sort could I discover. At length I perceived a 
bell, which in my perplexity, I rang loud enough to 
alarm all the inmates of the house. Immediately a 
pleasant, pretty, plump Scotch girl — " a bonnie 
lassie" — made her appearance, and conducted me into 
the parlor. 

" Where is the office?' ' I inquired. 

" We have none," she replied. 

" Well, the bar-room?" 

" We have none. 1 ' 

"Is not this a hotel?'' I demanded, a Little crossly. 

"0, yes, sir," she answered with a smile, "and 
the best in the city." 

"Well, then, allow me to look at the register? " I 
returned. 

" I do not know what that is," she replied, "but 
we have nothing that gnus by any such name." 

"Have you a landlord?" I inquired, beginning to 
think the girl a little " daft." 

" No, sir ; but there is a lady. If you wish apart- 
ments, I will inform her? " 

" Of course I do," said I, rather impatiently. 

The girl smiled, tripped to the door, dropped a 



270 benedict's wanderings. 

courtesy and vanished. Before I had time to smooth 
my slightly ruffled temper, a young lady of pleasing 
address and attractive manners, entered the parlor. 
Expecting to meet a woman of sixty, gray, wrinkled 
and cross, you may imagine my surprise. But I 
soon found that, though a young woman, she under- 
stood her business thoroughly ; or, as we say in 
America, she " knew how to run a hotel," at least, 
after the English fashion. 

Bachelor, who, unperceived by me, had enjoyed the 
scene between the serving maid and myself, now 
came forward to save me from further embarassment. 

"Allow me," said he, addressing the hostess, "to 
introduce my friend Benedict, the gentleman to whom 
I referred on taking the apartments." 

Bachelor having arranged everything, I had only to 
take possession. Our rooms were three in number, 
two bed-rooms and a parlor between, the latter also 
serving as a dining-room. Altogether, they were 
commodious and satisfactory. 

Having adjusted my baggage, I subjected myself to 
a thorough ablution, which I never more enjoj'-ed, 
and then made my toilet. By this time, beginning 
to feel the pangs of hunger, I inquired of Bachelor at 
what hour we dined. 

"We!/' he repeated. "Who? You and I, or 
the guests of the Argyle? You forget that we are 



OTHER CUSTOMS. 271 

on { the other side of the big pond,' where everything 
in the form of a hotel is conducted on what we style 
at home ' the European plan.' " 

Though I knew the fact, it had not occurred to me 
at the moment, that there is scarcely such a thing 
abroad as an ordinary, or table d'hote. It is in Scot- 
land, as nearly everywhere else, apartments and 
attendance are furnished at stipulated prices, while 
meals are served when ordered, and charged for 
according to quantity and quality. 

Wishing to exercise my lower limbs a little after 
the confinement on board the vessel, I rang the bell 
and ordered dinner, leaving it to the hostess to supply 
us with whatever could be quickest served. I do not 
now recollect what we had, but I remember that the 
dishes were delicious, and served in so short a time as 
led to the suspicion that we had enjoyed some other 
body's dinner. 







CHAPTER VIII. 

AULD ACQUAINTANCE. 

IT was so late before we got through dinner that 
I Bachelor, who is not over-fond of locomotion, 
S^ particularly of a pedestrian character, thought 
a stroll in Buchanan street, and a look at the elegant 
shops and fashionable people, preferable to a ramble 
in George Square or the Necropolis. To a cer- 
tain degree indifferent whither I went or what I 
saw, I submitted cheerfully ; and, a few minutes 
later, we were threading our way through a crowd such 
as one seldom meets outside of Broadway and the 
Bowery in our own great metropolis. For a time 
the shops and show-windows, and the modes and 
manners of the people amused me ; and then I grew 
tired of the sameness, and still more of the multitude 
who met and passed me with scarce a glance at my 
strange face, and never a look of recognition. Not- 
withstanding the presence of my companion, I began 
to realize that feeling of loneliness which Moses 
experienced in the land of Egypt — " I have been a 



AULD ACQUAINTANCE. 273 

stranger in a strange land." My thoughts reverted 
to the many friends and acquaintance I had left 
behind, and the words of the peasant poet involun- 
tarily escaped my lips : 

" Should aukl acquaintance be forgot, 
And never brought to min' ; 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And days o' lang syne ? '' 

" Certainly not," replied Bachelor, who divined 
the tenor of my thoughts. " If you have stretched 
your limbs sufficiently, let us return to the hotel 
There we shall find 'auld acquaintance ' to enliven 
your spirits. 

" The Count and Countess di Lavarella ?" I sua- 
gested. 

"Yes," he returned, "and the winsome widow. 
Why do you omit her ?" 

It was the inquiry — aye, the very words I had used 
in chiding him ; but I could not say, as he had, that 
her name was on my tongue, though I must confess 
that she was in my mind. 

" Yes, and the winsome widow/' I replied, in his 
own language. 

Returning, we found the Count in a state of erinui 
I use the French term, as it expresses more than 
dullness or languor — weariness coupled with disgust. 
He had hoped, upon his arrival in Scotland, to find 



274 benedict's wanderings. 

his brother, "Professor di Lavarello, (of whom I shall 
have something to say when I reach Genoa,) in the 
city of Edinburgh. It was there he was to remain 
until my arrival, that he might enjoy, as he said, in a 
complimentary way, "the pleasure of my company 
on the voyage to Italy." But his brother having gone, 
he decided to remain in Glasgow until the departure 
of the steamer. 

The Countess di Lavarrello I had seen but two or 
three times during the voyage, and always under the 
affliction of sea-sickness. Even then she was at the 
same time easy and dignified in her deportment, 
though I thought her a little too reserved in conver- 
sation. But now I discovered that it was in conse- 
quence of her temporary illness ; for though she spoke 
English but imperfectly, she conversed upon various 
topics with freedom and fluency, and on matters con- 
cerning her own country with marked intelligence. 

After a time, Mrs. Maxwell joined our circle, with 
her soft smiles and winsome ways, reminding me of 
Milton's picture of Eve, if I may be allowed to apply 
his description to any other mortal : 

"Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, 
In every gesture dignity and love." 

She brought into our midst so much vivacity, that 
even the Count was aroused from his lethargy, and 
Bachelor, though still under the enchantment of " the 



AULD ACQUAINTANCE. 275 

ship's beauty," the Maid of Inverness, admitted that 

she would make a most desirable wife for any man 

who was not a monogamist. 

In the course of the evening I availed myself of a 

favorably opportunity to inquire if she had put 

Bachelor to the test I had suggested. At first I 

think she was a little displeased, but presently she 

remarked, in a tone that clearly implied a sense of 

injury, that she failed to appreciate a practical joke 

of such character. Without knowing the result of 

their interview, I felt assured that the plan I had 

devised for the discomfiture of Bachelor, had gone to 

swell the evidence of the truth of what the poet sung 

to the mouse : 

"The best laid schemes o' mice and men 
Gang aft a-gley." 

Though he had beaten me twice, I did not despair 
of final triumph ; but contented myself at the 
moment, with the remark that -''Time, the great 
arbiter of events," would, in some way, settle the 
point of dispute to her satisfaction. There was some- 
thing in the earnestness of my manner that saved me 
from her further displeasure, though I doubt if it 
convinced her of my truthfulness. 



a 



r » 



CHAPTER IX. 



ST. MUNGO'S TOWN. 

S|HE next morning, soon after breakfast, I ad- 
dressed a note to Mrs. Small, and despatched 
^Iv^ ^ ky a messenger, inquiring if it would be 
agreeable to her and daughter, and at what hour, to 
join Bacholor and myself, with Mrs. Maxwell, in a 
drive of observation about the city. She had re- 
quested of Bachelor the privilege and pleasure as she 
termed it, of pointing out the objects of interest on 
my arrival, and she replied, by the same massenger, 
that she would be delighted to bear us compare, and 
would be ready at any time we might be pleased to 
call within half an hour after her note was received. 

Before leaving the hotel, Mrs. Maxwell gave a 
message to the hostess for her brother, should he 
arrive in her absence. She had expected him every 
day for nearly a week. He was to have met her on 
the arrival of the Columbia, but had informed her 
by letter that he was detained as a witness in one of 
the courts of Edinburgh. On learning this fact she 



ST. MUNGO'S TOWN. 277 

would have gone on to Dalkeith, had he not at the 
same time requested her to remain, the transaction of 
some business requiring him to visit Glasgow. 

Among all the acquaintances I formed in crossing 
the Atlantic, not one contributed more to my enjoy- 
ment than Mrs. Small. In addition to many little 
favors, which only a kind-hearted woman ever extends 
to a stranger, she was always ready to amuse the 
weary with her never failing fund of anecdotes ; and 
I, who am not averse to pleasantry, came in for a full 
share of this excellent entertainment. On meeting 
her again, she cordially welcomed me, not only t 
Scotland, but to her own home, where the guest is 
the recipient of generous hospitality. 

The daughter was not so cordial ; indeed, I thought 
her somewhat reserved. Evidently she had not yet 
forgotten her sea-sickness, or that I had contributed 
to its duration. I think she still felt herself a- 
Grieve-d. 

Before setting out, Mrs. Small inquired if I had 
any particular places in view, or if it would devolve 
upon her to make the selection. Of course I preferred 
the latter, only stipulating that we should visit as 
many objects as possible, beginning with those of the 
greatest interest. 

" The Cathedral," said Mrs. Small, addressing the 
coachman. 



278 benedict's wanderings. 

Our course lay through Argyle street to the Cross, 
thence through High street, the principal thorough- 
fare of the ancient town of St. Mungo, to the Cathedral. 
The distance was considerable, and as the coachman 
favored his horses, it afforded us an opportunity to 
learn something of the early history of the city. 

At present, in point of wealth, commerce, and 
population, Glasgow is the third city in Great Britain. 
Including that portion on the south side of the Clyde, 
the population is about half a million. Yet, like 
most of the great cities of the world, it had but an 
insignificant beginning, and gradually developed, 
through a period of several centuries, to its present 
vast proportions. 

" The reputed founder of the city," said Mrs. Small, 
" was St. Mungo, or, as he is sometimes styled, St. 
Kintigern. He is supposed to have established the 
bishopric of Glasgow, where the upper and older part 
of the town still remains, about the middle of the 
sixth century." 

As we jogged along through High street, I could 
scarcely realize that we were passing over a way that 
had been in use for more than thirteen hundred years. 

" From the time of St. Mungo," continued Mrs. 
Small, " to the early part of the twelfth century, the 
history of the city is involved in obscurity. Then the 
Cathedral, which we are about to behold, was erected 






ST. MUNGO'S TOWN. 279 

by John Achaius, Bishop of Glasgow, and dedicated 
to St. Mungo. The exact year is in dispute, but it 
was in the reign of David I." 

" As St. Mungo established the bishopric of Glas- 
gow," I remarked, "he must have erected some sort 
of a structure for religious worship. Is there any 
trace of such an edifice? " 

"I think not," she replied. "About thirty years 
ago the Government repaired and renewed certain 
parts of the building which had fallen into decay, and 
during the progress of the operations several frag- 
ments of mouldings were found, which had been used 
for filling in some of the walls, of a much older date 
than any part of the Cathedral, thus proving the 
existence of a, previous structure. These mouldings, 
some of which were preserved, are of beautiful work- 
manship. But they may have belonged, and probably 
did, to some religious edifice erected long after the 
period of St. Mungo." 

The Cathedral occupies a most picturesque position, 
on the bank of a dark ravine, from which it is sup- 
posed the name of the city was derived. Though 
erected by Achaius, in the beginning of the twelfth 
century, it received many additions and embellish- 
ments, by successive prelates, as far down as the 
Reformation. Originally, it contained three churches, 
one of which, the Old Barony, was situated in a vault. 



280 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



There is a description of this church in Boh Roy, as 
it appeared at a much later period, for reference is 
made to a "portion which was seated with pews." But 
according to the early history of the city, there were 
no seats in the Cathedral until near the close of the 




GLASGOW CATHEDRAL. 

sixteenth century. It occurring to the kirk-session at 
that time that seats would be a great convenience, 
they caused certain ash trees in the church -yard to be 
cut down for the purpose of making forms, or benches 
without backs. 

"But," said Mrs. Small, in relating this anecdote, 
" so ungallant were the men of that period, that they 
actually forbade the women to sit upon these benches, 



ST. MUNUO's TOWN. 281 

and required them to bring with them stools for their 
accommodation." 

This incident reminded me of a missionary church 
in one of our western states or territories, which the 
minister in charge, in his official report, described as 
so poor, that " every man is obliged to carry his own 
cushion, and the fattest man has the softest seat." 

Religious worship in the Old Barony has been long 
ago discontinued, and the space occupied by the second 
church has been thrown into the choir, or central part 
of the fabric. At present the structure is in the form 
of a Latin cross, in the early pointed style of architec- 
ture, the pure Gothic. It is in length three hundred 
and nineteen feet from east to west. The nave is 
one hundred and fifty-six feet long, sixty-two wide, 
and ninety high ; and the choir, the part now used 
for worship, is ninety-seven feet long and sixty wide. 
The tower and spire rise from the centre, to the 
height of two hundred and twenty-five feet. The 
large eastern window is beautifully stained, and the 
organ screen is as beautifully carved. Adjoining are 
the Chapter-house and the Lady Chapel, the latter 
especially noticeable for its architectural beauty. 
There are three crypts, intended as a place of inter- 
ment for the magnates of the Cathedral, for beauty of 
design and excellence of execution said to be unequalled 
by any in the United Kingdom. 






-1 O: O" *>■ 



ssa- 



55-3 




ST. MUNGO'S TOWN. 283 

In the vicinity of the Cathedral and St. Mungo's 
Burial Ground, some of the benevolent institutions of 
the city are situated ; among others the Royal Infirm- 
ary, a large and elegant structure, the Asylum for the 
Blind, and the Institution for the Deaf and Dumb. 
Across the Molendinar Burn, spanned by the Bridge 
of Sighs, is the Necropolis, anciently the Fir Park, 
and believed to have been one of the dark retreats of 
the Druids. It is a bold and rocky eminence, rising 
to the height of nearly three hundred feet, and form- 
ing a noble background to the Cathedral. It is 
entered through a gateway in the Italian style, and is 
laid out in walks, and ornamented with trees, shrubs 
and flowers, which give it more the appearance of a 
'garden than a cemetery. It contains almost innu- 
merable monuments, of nearly every conceivable 
description, some of which are very superior in design 
and execution. Among the most noticeable are those 
erected to Rev. Dr. Dick, the author, William 
McGravin, Colin Dunlop of Tolcross, Charles Tennant 
of St. Rollox, Major Monteith and Colonel Pattison. 
The most conspicuous, however, is the Doric Column, 
surmounted by a statue, raised to the memory of John 
Knox, the great Reformer. It is situated on the 
most elevated spot of the Necropolis. 



1 1 



CHAPTER X. 



OTHER OBJECTS. 



cjHylROM the Necropolis, we returned through High 
affl-K street, as far as the Cross, stopping on our way 
<^Jpjp to view the city and county Bridewell, a struc- 
ture in the old Saxon style of architecture, capable of 
accommodating three hundred prisoners ; and the 
House of Refuge, an institution for the reclamation 
of juvenile thieves. Passing the " Bell of the Brae," 
where a severe action took place between the English 
under Percy, and the Scotch led by Wallace, result- 
ing in the defeat of the English and the loss of their 
commander, we diverged into Drygate and Rottenrow, 
two very old streets, in the most ancient part of the 
city, and in the latter of which stood, at one time, the 
manses of the prebendaries of the Cathedral ; but 
there were few houses left of any considerable anti-, 
quity, and none old enough in appearance to have 
belonged to the remote days of St. Mungo. 

As I reside at the seat of a celebrated university, it 
was but natural that I should feel an interest in the 



OTHER OBJECTS. 285 

progress of education, and in the institutions for its 
promotion. Of these there are many in G-lasgow, the 
University, with more than a thousand students, being 
at the head. The Andersonian University, founded 
about eighty years ago, for the education of unaca- 
demical classes, by John Anderson — for anything I 
know to the contrary, a descendent of 

" John Anderson, my jo, John," 
to whom Burns has given immortality — is the second 
in importance, and not only enjoys a large annual 
attendance, but also a growing popularity. Besides 
these are the Mechanics' Institution, the first of the 
kind established in Britain ; the High School, under 
the supervision of the corporation ; the Normal 
Seminaries of the Established and Free Churches, the 
former the first of the kind in Scotland ; and numer- 
ous elementary schools. 

On our way back, we visited the old buildings of 
the University, fronting on High street. This vener- 
able institution was founded by Bishop Turnbull, 
about the middle of the fifteenth century, under a 
bull of Pope Nicholas V.; and towards the close of 
the seventeenth century had reached the highest fame, 
importance and utility. The buildings are imposing 
in their appearance, though the uniformity and pro- 
priety of the structure have been marred by altera- 
tions in modern styles of architecture. The street 



286 benedict's wanderings. 

front, for instance, dating from the middle of the 
seventeenth century, is in the Elizabethan style of 
architecture. At the northern extremity, under an 
archway, elaborately carved in stone, is the entrance 
to the principal court, an area of considerable extent, 
in which were the houses of the professors. 

But this venerable pile, at the time I was there, 
was no longer devoted to the cause of education. It 
had been sold to a railway company, and was thence- 
forth to be a station for the accommodation of the 
traveling public. Even as we surveyed the massive 
walls, some of them were being removed by the com- 
pany to adapt the remainder to their purposes ; while 
on Gilmore Hill, at the west end of the city, a new 
stone building was in the course of construction for 
the University. 

At the Cross, which forms a centre whence various 
streets diverge, is the Tontine, a spacious edifice, with 
a handsome piazza. The News Room of this Hotel, 
formerly called the Coffee-Room, was, before the 
erection of the New Exchange in Queen street, the 
great focus of business and politics. Years ago the 
jail and court-houses stood near the Cross, and in 
front of them criminals were executed. The Town- 
hall still remains, and is one of the oldest of the 
public buildings of the city. 

Passing through Saltmarket, rendered famous by 



OTHER OBJECTS. 287 

Scott, in his story of Rob Roy, as the abode of Bailie 
Nicol Jarvie, we entered Bridgegate, to see Silver- 
craigs House, where Cromwell is said to have lodged 
when in Glasgow. Thence we proceeded to the 
Queen's Park, commonly called the Green, a hundred 
and forty acres of smooth verdent lawn, on the right 
of which are the court-houses and jail, built in the 
Grecian style of architecture. In front of these the 
annual Glasgow fair is held, and it is also the present 
place of public executions. The Park is surrounded 
by a carriage drive of over two miles in length, near 
which, at one point, is an Egyptian obelisk, one 
hundred and forty-four feet in height, erected to the 
memory of Nelson. 

Here we obtained a fine view of the Clyde, which, 
at high tide, appears to great advantage. At the 
distance of a few miles are the Cathkin Braes, con- 
taining many country seats, one of which, Castle- 
milk, was pointed out to us by Mrs. Small, as the 
house in which Mary Queen of Scots lodged the night 
before the battle of Langside. "It is said," added 
our informant, " that, from a rock, still called the 
'Queen's Seat,' on the top of Cathkin-hill, near the 
Castle, the unfortunate jDrincess witnessed the defeat 
that destroyed, at the same time, her army and her 
hopes." 

At the foot of Stockwell street is Victoria Bridge, 



288 benedict's wanderings. 

a handsome structure, faced with white granite, hav- 
ing a roadway of sixty feet, supported hy five grand 
arches. It occupies the site of the old bridge, which 
was built by Bishop Eae in 1345, and for over four 
hundred years formed the great communication 
between the city and the western part of Scotland. 

Left entirely to her own choice, Mrs. Small carried 
us hither and thither, through all sorts of streets and 
to all sorts of places, that we might behold the city, 
as she said, in its worst as well as its best garbs. In 
one or two streets we saw the poor in their squalor 
and wretchedness, and their mean old habitations, 
some of them in a tumbling condition ; and then, by 
way of contrast, the elegant palatial residences of the 
— as she styled them — a cotton lords" and "iron 
nabobs." 

Observing as we emerged from one of these streets 
that we were near the hotel, I proposed a lunch in 
Miss Pender's parlor. By this time we had become a 
jovial party, everything of an unpleasant character 
having been forgotten, or at least forgiven. It was 
then nearly two o'clock, and the hour that succeeded 
was one of the pleasantest I enjoyed during my 
wanderings. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE MONUMENTS. 




|T would be impossible for me to remember our 
route, or the streets through which we passed, 
°j%{ or all the places of interest that came under 
our observation. I remember some, however, — the 
Post Office, the Trades' Hall, the Royal Theatre, the 
Royal Lunatic Asylum, one of the best in Scotland, 
and the Mechanics' Institution, which has, among 
other advantages, a fine library. Of the bank build- 
ings brought to our notice, I remember the National, 
in the Italian style ; the City of Glasgow, after the 
model of the Jupiter Stator at Rome ; the office of 
the Western Banking Company, a palatial structure ; 
the Clydesdale, a plain edifice ; and the Royal, after 
the model of the Temple of Minerva at Athens. I 
remember, too, the steeple of the old Tolbooth, which 
contains a chime of bells ; and the old Tron Steeple, 
a somewhat stunted but venerable looking spire, pro- 
jecting nearly the whole width of the pavement ; and 
the Cross Steeple, a relic of the ancient civic splendor 



290 benedict's wanderings. 

of that portion of the city. Of the places of worship, 
said to number at least a hundred and fifty, some are 
very beautiful edifices. St. Andrew's, of the Estab- 
lished Church, a building of the composite order, is 
one of the oldest, and in some respects the finest in 
the city. After it, the most noticeable are St. David's, 
in the decorated Gothic, St. George's and St. Enoch's, 
in the Roman, and St. Jude's, in the Egyptian style 
of architecture. 

As the day was somewhat advanced, in resuming 
our drive Mrs. Small directed the coachman to proceed 
at once to George Square, taking Miller and Queen 
streets in the way. We were now to be shown the 
finest statues of the city outside of. the Necropolis. 

Though I spoke of several objects in the vicinity of 
the Cross, I omitted to mention an equestrian statue 
of William III., said to be of no great merit as a 
work of art ; and a marble statue of William Pitt, by 
Chantrey, a beautiful piece of workmanship, in the 
old Town Hall. In this building are other objects of 
interest, among which I observed the portraits of 
some of the Scotch and English sovereigns. 

In Miller street, where, a hundred years ago, the 
" Tobacco Lords" had their mansions, now occupied 
as places of business, is Sterling's Library, a valuable 
collection of books, which are entirely free to the 



THE MONUMENTS. 291 

public. Before the entrance to this building, is a 
colossal head of Homer, by Mossman. 

Many of the public buildings are of great architec- 
tural merit, though by far the most magnificent is 
the Royal Exchange, in Queen street, erected about 
forty years ago, at an expense to the city of two 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It is in the 
Corinthian style, surmounted by a handsome circular 
clock tower. In front of it, there is a colossal eques- 
trian statue, in bronze, by Marochetti, of the Duke of 
Wellington, having bronze alto-reliefs on the pedestal, 
of his principal battles. 

In Greorge Square, one of the most central points 
in the city, there are a number of excellent monu- 
ments. The most prominent of these is the pillar 
erected, in the centre of the square, to the memory of 
Sir Walter Scott. It is a Doric column, eighty feet 
in height, surmounted with a colossal statue, in free 
stone, of the great minstrel. The .figure is half envel- 
oped in a shepherd's plaid, which, Mrs. Small informed 
us had been severely criticised as being placed on the 
wrong arm. 

Directly in front of Sir Walter's monument are two 
fine pedestrian statues, in bronze. The nearer is that 
of Colin Campbell, a native of Glasgow, who quelled 
the Indian mutiny ; and the other, by Flaxman — one 
of his finest works — of Sir John Moore, also a native 



292 benedict's wanderings. 

of Glasgow, who fell in battle at Coruima, where he 
was also buried : 

" But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. " 

In the south-west corner of the square is a bronze 
statue, by Chantrey, of James Watt, in a sitting 
posture. It was in Glasgow where he began his series 
of experiments in mechanical science, which resulted 
in the improvement, already referred to, in the steam 
engine. 

There was also an equestrian statue of the Queen, 
and another of Prince Albert, and others which I 
cannot now distinctly call to memory, of military and 
civic celebrities of the city. 

Indeed, it was by this time so late, that we were 
unable longer to distinguish objects with any degree 
of satisfaction. 

In answer to the coachman's inquiry whither he 
should drive, Mrs. Small replied to her house, remark- 
ing to us immediately afterwards, that she had caused 
dinner to be prepared for the party. To obviate any 
objection on the part of Mrs. Maxwell, she sent to the 
hotel for her brother, should he have arrived. 

Dinner was over and we were about to repair to the 
parlor, when the servant announced Mr. Fraser. A 
tall, handsome man, of five and thirty years perhaps 
with auburn hair and a florid complexion, entered the 



THE MONUMENTS. 293 

room. The next moment the winsome widow, with 
her arms around his neck, was clasped affectionately 
to his bosom. He was her brother, and they had not 
seen each other for nearly five years. 

The ceremony of introduction over, we entered the 
parlor, where an hour was spent in talking about the 
objects of interest we had seen during the day. At 
the end of that time, Mr. Fraser and his sister took 
their leave, after extending to all present a most 
cordial invitation to visit them at Dalkeith. 

Bachelor and I remained an hour longer, he in 
conversation with the daughter, and I with the 
mother. Unperceived by any one, he had availed 
himself of an opportunity which the departure of the 
other guests afforded, to signify that such a separa- 
tion would be, to him at least, most satisfactory. 

I was never quite certain whether the captain's 
daughter was engaged to the ship's surgeon ; or, if 
not engaged, whether she was in love with him. But 
I knew that, if she were either, it was useless for 
Bachelor to "put the question ; " for she was one of 
. the kind who never trifle with their own or any other 
body's affections. 

As for Bachelor, I had seen him in love a great 
many times, but I had never seen him quite so much 
in earnest. More than once I had said to him, 
" ' But screw youx- courage to the sticking-place,' 



294 benedict's wanderings. 

and you may yet become an honest Benedict ; " and 
yet now, such were my doubts, I was almost afraid to 
afford him the desired opportunity. 

What occurred during the hour mentioned I have 
not the faintest idea. I observed that they were 
engaged in earnest conversation, carried on in an 
undertone. I observed, too, that the mother was a 
little uneasy, and tried more than once to interrupt 
their conversation. At length she interfered abruptly 
. and sent her daughter to the piano. 

On our leaving the house, I noticed that Miss Small 
did not invite Bachelor to call again, while her "good 
night" had very much the character of a final fare- 
well. For the space of two or three blocks we walked 
side by side in silence, and then I ventured to allude 
to his tete-a-tete with the young lady. He did not 
reply at once, but presently said — this and no more, 
then or ever — 

" She loves, but 'tis not me she loves." 






CHAPTER XII. 



THE WAY TO AYR. 




pURING our stay in Scotland — I speak of 
Bachelor and myself — we had our home, or 
head-quarters at Glasgow. Thence we made 
excursions to different parts of the country, some- 
times for a day, hut for a longer time on two or three 
occasions. Our first trip beyond the limits of the 
city was to Ayrshire, the land of Burns. It was 
made the second day after our drive and dinner with 
Mrs. Small, and daughter. I wished to go the next 
morning, hut Bachelor, for some reason, could not be 
roused in time for the train we preferred. So the day 
was spent in going about the city, to places not 
embraced in our drive : among others, to the Hun- 
terian Museum, a Grecian edifice, containing a collec- 
tion of books, coins, paintings, and anatomical 
preparations of very great value ; the Athenreum, 
with its large library of choice books ; the Bazaar, a 
general market, and the only one in that great com- 
mercial centre ; the St. Rollox Chemical Works, 



296 

established by Charles Tennant, who discovered 
bleach-water, and Charles Mcintosh, who invented 
bleach-powder, having a chimney-stalk four hundred 
and thirty-eight feet in height ; and the church of 
Gorbals and the Southern Necropolis, on the opposite 
side of the Clyde. 

But I was more fortunate on the following morning, 
for Bachelor was astir " by the peep of. day," and we 
were off together by the early train. The railway to 
Ayr passes through a most interesting portion of the 
country, including the city of Paisley, several burghs 
and villages, and the vicinity of other places rich in 
incident of history and tradition. The first few miles 
we saw but little worthy of particular mention. We 
passed a great number of silk and cotton manufac- 
tories, and iron-works of all kinds ; and then a suc- 
cession of elegant villas, belonging chiefly to the 
wealthy manufacturers. But there was nothing of a 
striking character until we reached Crookston Castle, 
half way to Paisley. It stands on an eminence that 
overhangs the south bank of the White Cart. It was 
at one time the property of the Stewarts of Lennox, 
and the residence of Queen Mary when receiving the 
addresses of Darnley. 

The city of Paisley, seven miles from Glasgow, 
besides being celebrated as the birth-place of Robert 
Tannahill, the poet, and John Wilson, the novelist 



THE WAY TO AYE. 297 

and critic, is famous for the manufacture of a variety 
of articles for wearing apparel. The original manu- 
factures were coarse checked linen cloth and hand- 
kerchiefs, which were succeeded and eventually 

superseded, about a hundred years ago, by the manu- 
facture of silk gauze, which in turn has given place 
to cotton thread, embroidery, carpets, silks, velvets, 
chenille and crapes. It is particularly celebrated for 
its shawls, which are of silk, cotton, wool, and mixed, 
the finest Cashmeres being equal in texture and 
superior in design to the most celebrated productions 
of the East. 

The city consists of an old town, indifferent in 
appearance, and a new town, of better construction, 
lit with gas and partially paved, the united popula- 
tion exceeding forty thousand. It is a place of great 
antiquity, and owes its existence to the establishment 
of an abbey, about the year 1160, by Walter Stewart, 
from whom the royal family of Scotland descended. 
At the time of the Reformation, the abbey formed a 
magnificent pile, with an enclosure of about a mile in 
circuit. After the expulsion of the monks, it was 
used for a time as a palatial residence. It is now a 
ruin, with the exception of a small portion used as a 
parish church. The lofty chapel on the south side of 
the abbey, contains a tomb, surmounted by a recum- 
bent female figure, which is supposed to represent 



298 benedict's wanderings. 

Marjory, daughter of Robert Bruce, wife of Walter 
Stewart, and mother of Robert II., the first of the 
Stewart sovereigns. 

Nearly every village on the way is worthy of men- 
tion, one for its beauty or importance, another as 
being near some ancient ruin, another perhaps on 
account of some historical association. Near Paisley 
is the village of Elderslie, the birth-place of William 
Wallace, where, according to tradition, he concealed 
himself from the English, in a great oak known by 
his name to this day. Beyond Kilbarchan, the next 
village, are the ruins of Elliston Tower, formerly the 
seat of the Sempills, a noble family in which poetical 
talent was long hereditary. A short distance from 
Lochwinnoch, a village on the side of Castle Semple 
Loch, is Barr Castle, supposed to have been built 
in the fifteenth century ; and on a wooded islet in 
the lake, are the remains of a fort, erected, in ancient 
times, by Lord Sempill. In the vicinity of Beith, 
about half way between Glasgow and Ayr are the ruins 
of Griffen Castle, formerly a stronghold of the Mont- 
gomerie family ; and in the same vicinity, near Kil- 
birnie Loch, a beautiful sheet of water two miles in 
length and one in breadth, are the remains of the 
ancient Castle of Glengarnock. 

At about two-thirds of the distance is Kilwinning, 
whichj it is said, derives its name from St. Winning, 



THE WAY TO AYK. 299 

who resided here in the eighth century. An abbey 
for monks of the Tyronensian order, dedicated to this 
saint, was erected liere in the beginning of the twelfth 
century, by Hugh de Moreville, lord of Cuningham, 
the ruiDS of which still exist. A party of freema- 
sons, who came from the continent to assist in build- 
ing this monastery, introduced Free Masonry into 
Scotland, and by means of the lodges they established, 
the mysteries of their order were disseminated over 
the rest of the country. The magnificent edifice 
they erected was in a great measure destroyed at the 
Reformation. 

After a hasty survey of this venerable ruin, we pro- 
ceeded to Irvine, about ten miles from Ayr, celebrated 
as being the birth-place of Montgomery the Poet, and 
of John Gait the novelist. It was also at one time, 
the temporary residence of Robert Burns, a fact which 
the citizens of the place delight to remember. Two 
miles from Irvine, on the top of a hill, distinctly vis- 
ible from the cars, are the remains of the ancient 
castle of Dundonald. It was here that Robert Stew- 
art, afterwards Robert II., wooed and married his 
first wife, Elizabeth Mure of Rowallan, who was 
noted for her great beauty. It was here, too, that he 
died, in 1390. Near the castle are the remains of an 
ancient church, dedicated to the Virgin, called our 
Lady's Kirk. There is a tradition, to the effect that 



300 Benedict's wandekings. 

James IV., in passing through this part of his king- 
dom, uniformly made an offering at this kirk, of the 
princely sum of fourteen shillings. 

Passing the ruins of Kingscase, a charitable insti- 
tution endowed by Robert Bruce, we arrived at Ayr, 

" Under the opening eyelids of 1he morn," 
to spend the day in visiting some of the objects made 
famous by the " immortal verse" of the " Ayrshire 
ploughman." 



— M®K~ 




CHAPTER XIII. 



THE LAND OF BURNS. 



||^HE town of Ayr is not only a parish and par- 
vlglll liamentary burgh, but a seaport of some 
^^^ importance, though the harbor, formed by the 
mouth of the river and two piers, is too shallow and 
exposed. It is said the place has greatly improved 
of late years, audits business considerably increased. 
At present it is quite a fashionable resort, one of its 
attractions being a race-course of ninety acres. It 
contains a number of edifices, worthy of mention — 
the county hall, the mechanics' institute, the theatre, 
an arcade, an old and new church, an old and new 
bridge, a town house, with a spire one hundred and 
thirty-five feet high, and " Wallace Tower," a Gothic 
structure, one hundred and fifteen feet high, erected 
on the site of the old wooden tower in which Sir 
William Wallace was confined ; containing at the 
top the clock and bells of the old dungeon steeple, 
and in front a statue of the distinguished " Knight of 
Elderslie," executed by James Thorn, the self-taught 



302 benedict's wanderings. 

sculptor of Ayr. Including the suburbs of Newton 
and Wallacetown, from which it is separated by the 
waters of Ayr, and with which it is connected by " The 
Brigs of Ayr," it contains about 20,000 inhabitants. 

Besides being the birth-place of Burns, or, rather, 
the nearest town to the "auld clay biggin' " in which 
he first drew breath, Ayr is not without interesting 
associations. It was erected into a royal burgh by 
William the Lion, at the beginning of the thirteenth 
century. The " Auld Brig " was built in the reign 
of Alexander III., about the middle of the same 
century, by two maiden sisters, and the " New Brig" 
chiefly through the exertions of Provost Ballantyne, 
to whom " The Brigs of Ayr" was dedicated. The 
Fort of Ayr, built by Oliver Cromwell about the 
middle of the seventeenth century, included within 
its walls St. John's Church, founded in the twelfth 
century, the tower of which, with fragments of the 
ramparts of the citadel, still remain, though in a 
crumbling condition. As a compensation to the 
inhabitants for their church, which he turned into an 
armory, he gave one hundred and fifty pounds towards 
the erection of the present old church, which occupies 
the site of a Dominican monastery, celebrated in 
history as the edifice in which Robert Bruce, after he 
had freed his country, held the parliament which 
settled his succession. 



THE LAND OF BURMS 303 

From the railway station, we entered Ayr over trie 

"New Brig. 1 ' After a look at the places above 

mentioned, we proceeded direct to the " public of 

repute " in which 

' ' Ae market night 
Tam had got planted unco right ; 
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, 
Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; 
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony." 

Served with a pot of ale each, we drank it, as we 

were assured, on the very spot where 

" The landlady and Tam grew gracious, 
Wi' favors, secret, sweet, and precious." 

Instead of a local guide, we had the pleasant society 
of an intelligent Canadian gentleman, well acquainted 
with the places of principal interest, whose acquaint- 
ance we made while sipping our ale. A Scotchman 
having sung the popular song of "John Anderson, 
my jo," Bachelor added another verse, embodying the 
same thought in different phraseology, which so 
amused and delighted the Canadian, that he at once 
proposed, if agreeable to us, to join our party and 
become our conductor. The acquaintance of a more 
genial good fellow, was never made through means of 
an eight line impromptu. 

Under the guidance of Mr. Mortimer, our new 
Canadian acquaintance, we set out on foot, and at 
the distance of about three miles from Ayr, beheld 



THE LAND OF BURNS. 305 

the birth-place of Robert Burns. The house is 
divided into two apartments, a kitchen and a dining- 
room, in the latter of which the poet was born. Ex- 
pecting to see "an auld clay biggin'," such as the 
poet described, I found before me a cottage with stone 
walls, substantially built and in excellent condition. 
These walls, however, as I understand, were built by 
the Burns Association of Ayr, for the preservation of 
the "auld clay biggin' " erected with his own hands 
by the poet's father. Near the cottage is a hall, of 
modern construction, in which the association hold 
their annual festivals. 

At the distance of a few hundred yards from the 
cottage, stands the monument to the memory of the 
poet, erected a little more than fifty years ago. It is 
suitably situated on the banks of the Doon, between 
the old and new bridges, and the grounds around it, 
more than an acre in extent, are beautifully laid out 
into walks and ornamented with shrubbery and 
flowers, it is sixty feet in height, tasteful in design, 
and skillful in execution. Within it are preserved 
the pocket bible, in two volumes, given by the poet 
to Mary Campbell, the " Highland Mary " of his 
muse. On the fly-leaf of each volume, is written a 
passage of Scripture, in his own penmanship, and 
subscribed by his name ; and in one of them is 
preserved a lock of the Highland lassie' s hair. The 



THE LAND OF BUKNS. 307 

monument also contains a marble bust of the poet, 
and a copy of his portrait as originally taken by 
Naysmith. The celebrated statues of Tarn o' Shanter 
and Souter Johnny, by Thorn, are in a small grotto 
at the south side of the enclosure. 

"As you perceive," said Mr. Mortimer, "there are 
two bridges over the Doon ; but they are not, as some 
persons suppose, ' The Brigs of Ayr/ The latter are 
those which span the waters of Ayr; besides, there was 
but one bridge over the Doon in the time of Burns — the 
' aulcl brig,' the origin of which is lost in antiquity." 

The New Bridge, as it is called, stands about a 
hundred yards below the Old, and is a very substan- 
tial structure. From it a tine view may be obtained 
of the monument and ornamental surroundings ; as 
from the base of the monument maybe had a charming 
view of the surrounding scenery. After enjoying these 
views, we followed the custom of tourists, and climbed 
" the key-stane of the brig," where Maggie, "with 

" Ae spring brought aff her master hale, 
But left behind her ain grey tail." 

Near the bridge, at the entrance to the monumental 
enclosure, is a neat little inn, for the accommodation of 
tourists, where we rested for a while, slaked our thirst 
with as fine a draught of ale as any man could reason- 
ably desire, and fortified ourselves with a good substan- 
tial luncheon for the completion of our pilgrimage. 



308 benedict's wanderings. 

Rested and refreshed, we resumed our ramble 

among the relics of the rustic hard, and soon 

"Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh, 
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.'' 

The walls of this ancient structure are still in a fail- 
's state of preservation ; hut all the wood-work, includ- 
ing the roof, has long since been taken away, to form 
' snuff-boxes and other memorials. 

In the churchyard of Alloway, I observed many 
modern monuments, among which is one of Lord 
Alloway, a Judge of the Court of Session. Many of 
the older monuments bear the names of persons made 
famous in the writings of the poet. But the object 
of principal interest in this old burial place is the 
grave of the poet's father, William Burns. It is 
marked by a plain tombstone, said to be of modern 
construction, the original stone, of which the present 
is said to be an exact copy, having been broken and 
carried away in fragments. In this stone is cut the 
epitaph penned by the poet to commemorate the 
virtuous character of his father : 

" O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, 

Draw near with pious reverence, and attend ; 
Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, 

The tender father, and the generous friend. 
The pitying heart that felt for human woe, 

The dauntless heart that feared no human pride ; 
The friend of man — to vice alone a foe ; 

For e'en his failings leant to virtue's side." 



" 



CHAPTER XIV. 



THE DRIVE. 




fROM the Ayr to the Doon, and from the Doon 
|^ to the Grirvan, there is scarcely an object 
worthy of notice, that has not been mentioned 
in some of the poet's writings. It was impossible to 
visit all of them, as it is now impossible to describe 
all those we visited. On the coast are three famous 
ruins — the Castle of Greenan, mentioned in a chart 
granted by William the Lion ; Denure Castle, a tall, 
empty tower near the mouth of tlie Doon ; and 
Turnberry Castle, where was born, as is believed, 
Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland. In the neigh- 
borhood of the last ruin is Colzean Castle and the 
Coves, alluded to in " Halloween ; " the farm of 
Shanter, the residence of Douglass Graham, the 
original of " Tarn o 1 Shanter ; " and the village of 
Kirkoswald, where the poet spent some months at 
school, in the study of surveying and mensuration. 
In the graveyard of this village are buried two of the 
most famous of Burns' characters — Tarn o' Shanter 



310 benedict's wanderings. 

and Souter Johnny. Even Ailsa Craig, mentioned in 
" Duncan Gray," a huge rock ten miles from shore, ris- 
ing out of the sea to the height of eleven hundred feet, 
was faintly visible in the distance. But of all these 
places none has received more frequent mention than 
"Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon." 

To make the round of all these places without the 
consumption of too much time, we procured a light 
spring wagon, a quick-footed team, and a driver 
willing to " speed add wings " for a liberal compensa- 
tion. The day was pleasant, the road in good con- 
dition, and I doubt if any mortal, save Tarn o' 
Shanter on that night 

' ' When out the hellish legion sallied, 
****** 

Wi' monie an eldritch screech and hollow," 
ever made better time between the Doon and the Ayr. 
Satisfied with our trip to Kirkoswald — and with 
our driver, who, the more he drank, the faster he 
drove — we proceeded in the same conveyance to Tar- 
bolton, and afterwards to Mauchline. We left Ayr, 

" Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses; 
For honest men and bonnie lasses," 

by the way of Mount Oliphant, the farm upon which 
the poet spent ten years of his life, from the seventh 
to the seventeenth year, and entered Tarbolton by the 
way of Lochlea, the farm upon which he spent the 



THE DRIVE. 311 

next seven years, with the exception of a few months 
at Irvine. There is nothing remarkable about either 
of these farms, and if they had not been residences of 
the poet, would attract no special attention. 

On entering Tarbolton, we proceeded directly to the 
public house in which the " Bachelors of Tarbolton," 
the debating society organized by Burns, held their 
meetings, and spent their "threepence" a head "to 
toast their mistresses." Here we spent our " three- 
pence " a head, and drank — Mortimer, who was a 
married man, and myself to our wives and babies, 
and Bachelor, poor fellow, to his perplexing sweet- 
hearts. What a capital member he would have made 
of this debating club, the rules of which required that 
" Every man proper for a member of this society 
must have a friendly, honest, open heart; above every- 
thing dirty or mean, and must be a professed lover of 
one or more of the sex." 

Though an old place, Tarbolton is but small, the 
inhabitants not exceeding twelve hundred. It has 
manufactures of cotton, woollen and linen fabrics, a 
handsome church, and a subscription library, all of 
which are of a date subsequent to the time of the 
poet. Yet the old house where St. James's Lodge of 
Freemasons then met, and where Burns was initiated 
into the mysteries of the order, still remains, and is 
pointed out with pride by the citizens. It was to 



312 benedict's wanderings. 

the members of this lodge, when about to embark to 

Jamaica, that he addressed "The Farewell: " 

" Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond adieu ! 
Dear Brothers of the mystic tie ! 
Ye favor'd, ye enlighten'd few. 
Companions of my social joy ! " 

It would have afforded me very great pleasure to 

have visited this lodge, and met the 

" * * * * social band, 

And spent the cheerful, festive night; 
* honor'd with supreme command, 
Presided o'er the Sons of Light." 

But as it was a fortnight to the time of the next 
meeting, I had to forego the pleasure, and content 
myself with a look at the lodge-room — a small apart- 
ment, plainly furnished, having antiquated but valu- 
able jewels. 

Before leaving Tarbolton, we visited the old man- 
sion house of Coldsfield, in " Highland Mary " desig- 
nated as 

"The castle o' Montgomerie," 

where Mary Campbell resided in the capacity of a 
dairy-maid ; and afterwards the Faile, near its 
junction with the Ayr, where the lovers at their last 
parting, stood one on each side of the rivulet, and 
" laved their hands in the water, and, holding a Bible 
between them, pronounced a vow of eternal con- 
stancy." 

From Tarbolton we proceeded to Mauchline, by 



The dkive. 313 

the way of Mossgiel, of which the poet and his 
brother Gilbert became tenants before the publication 
of his poems at Kilmarnock. It is said to be very 
little changed in appearance, though more success- 
fully cultivated. We were shown the room in which 
he wrote many of his most popular productions ; the 
field in which he turned up the mouse in its nest ; 
the other field in which he turned down the mountain 
daisy ; and many other objects to which his notice or 
his name has given interest. 

In Mauchline, the name of Burns — the older citi- 
zens still call him " Rob Mossgiel " — is associated 
with many localities, one of the most noted being the 
house of " Auld Nance Tinnock," the " Poosie 
Nansie " of " The Jolly Beggars : " 

" Ae night at e'en a meery core, 
At Poosie-Nansie's held the splore." 

Another of the noted places is the old public house 
which the poet frequented, the Whiteford Arms, 
across the way from the dwelling of his " Bonnie 
Jean." It was on the window of thfs inn, kept by 
John Dove, that he wrote the epitaph beginning — 
" Here lies Johnny Pigeon." 

After visiting all the principal places about Mauch- 
line mentioned in his poetry, we entered the Arms 
and drank a glass to the memory of the " Poet" and 
the " Pigeon." Thence we betook ourselves to the 



&i4 benedict's wanderings. 

Nance Tinnock House, and were shown into the 
parlor on the second floor, at the time of " The Holy 
Fair " the chief drinking room. Here, for a while, to 
the astonishment of the host, but at the same time to 
his great gratification, we played the popular part 

of the 

* yill-caup commentators— 

* crying out for bakes and gills," 

not, however, as they did on that memorable occa- 
sion — 

"Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture." 






CHAPTER XV. 



THE POET'S GRAVE. 



(^ft)FTER a time, the question of What next? was 
proposed and discussed. I wished to proceed 
|sp? as far as Dumfries, where Burns spent the 
last few years of his life, and where he died and was 
buried. Bachelor objected, as it would require our 
absence for another day. Mortimer sustained the 
objection with the assurance that we had seen all the 
places of any note in Ayrshire, properly "the land of 
Burns." "Most persons," he added, "content them- 
selves with a glance at ' The Briggs of Ayr.' i The 
Brig o' Doon,' ' Alloway Kirk/ and ' The Monu- 
ment.' Few ever go so far as Kirkoswald, and fewer 
still diverge to Mauchline or Tarbolton." 

"We left Glasgow," I returned, addressing Bache- 
lor, " Avith the intention of visiting all the places 
made famous by the poet. It was at Ellisland he 
wrote the tale of ' Tarn o' Shanter, 1 and the beautiful 
lines ' To Mary in Heaven/ It was there, indeed, 
that others among his most popular poems were com- 
ix >sed. I feel now that I should not be satisfied 



316 benedict's wanderings. 

if I returned without having visited his home on the 
Nith." 

"Very well," replied Bachelor. "Go, then, by all 
means. But if Mortimer and I prefer to sleep in 
Glasgow, why should we lodge in Dumfries? To- 
morrow, when you return, worn out with 'toil and 
trouble,' you will find me waiting for you in Miss 
Pender's parlor.'" 

By the next train northward my friends left me for 
Glasgow, and by the next southward I left Mauchline 
for Dumfries. On the way, I passed many places of 
interest, some pertaining to the poet, and some to 
other distinguished individuals. One of these was 
Catrine. mentioned in " The Braes of Ballochmyle: " 

" The Catriue woods were yellow seen, 
The flowers decayed on Catrine lee." 

It is now a busy manufacturing village, but in the 
time of Burns, was the seat of Dr. Stewart, and the 
country residence of his celebrated son, Dugald Stew- 
art, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University 
of Edinburgh. It is to these distinguished persons 
the poet alludes in "The Vision: " 

' ' With deep-struck reverential awe 

The learned sire and son I saw, 
To Nature's God and Nature's law 

They gave their lore ; 
This, all it's source and end to draw, 

That, to adore." 



the poet's gkave. 317 

Across the glen through which the " stately Luder 
flows," is a magnificent viaduct, from which as the 
cars are passing, may be obtained an excellent view 
of " the Braes of Ballochmyle," where the poet met 
Miss Wilhelmina Alexander, celebrated in his song as 
" The Lass of Ballochmyle." At the junction of the 
Ayr and Luder, is the spot where the poet composed 
the dirge, " Man was made to mourn." Further on 
is Afton Water, which gives title to one of his most 
popular songs: 

" Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes." 

At Thornhill I left the cars, and proceeded on 
foot to the old post house of Brownhill, to see the 
bedstead on which the poet was born. In the " auld 
piny biggin' " I had been shown the recess in which it 
stood, and in the inn at Brownhill was pointed out 
" the very bed " itself. At the auction, or roup as 
the Scotch say, made by Burns when leaving Ellis- 
land, it was bought by a stable-boy for a trifle ; and 
was subsequently sold, as a relic of the poet, for the 
sum of twenty-five guineas. It is now kept in the 
inn to attract customers. 

Near Auldgirth Bridge, where the railway crosses 
the Nith, are the mansion-houses of Friar's Carse and 
Dalswinton, each occupying a most picturesque posi- 
tion. The latter was the seat of Mr. Miller, to whom 
belonged the farm of Ellisland. An admiring friend 



318 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



of the poet, he offered him the choice of any of the 
farms of his estate in Nithsdale. It is known that 
the poet might have selected one more productive, 
hut not another so beautifully situated. It is on the 
banks of the Nith, the course of which, for some miles, 




TIIE FA TIM OF ELLISTAND. 



may be seen from the windows of the house. The 
walks on the banks of the river were fine, and this is 
said to have weighed with the poet in making his 
selection. And, too, " on Nith-side " was the 
" Friar's Carse Hermitage,' 1 a summer-house bower, 
which afterwards became a favorite resort for poetical 



the poet's grave. 319 

composition, and in which were written the lines 
beginning : 

" Thou whom chance may hither lead — 
Be thou clad in russet weed, 
Be thou deck't in silken stole, 
Grave these counsels on thy soul."' 

After his appointment as an exciseman, the duties 
of his ride, " the area of ten muirland parishes," 
required so much of his time, that he was obliged to 
resign his lease of Ellisland, and remove to Dumfries. 
The house in which he here resided is situated in a 
short street called Burns. It is a narrow, two-storied, 
white-washed dwelling, considered respectable at the 
time he lived in it, but now of comparatively mean 
appearance, and occupied as an industrial school. 
Yet T could not look upon the old fabric without 
emotion, knowing that within its walls were written 
some of the sweetest songs of " Scotia's favorite 
Bard." 

It is not far from the old house in which he last 
lived and labored, to the churchyard of St. Michael's, 
in which he is buried. Thither I wended my way, 
that I might stand by his grave, and drop a tear to 
his memory. Over his remains is a mausoleum, 
erected in 1815, mainly through the exertions of 
General Dunlop, a lineal descendent of Sir William 
Wallace. It was built by subscription, to which 
George IV., Sir Frances Burdett, and many others of 



320 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



the aristocracy of Great Britain contributed. Of the 
many monuments in the old burying-ground, it is one 
of the most conspicuous, and by far the most impor- 
tant. The emblematic marble, in the interior, is com- 
posed of a plough 
and two figures, 
representing the 
genius of Scotland 
investing Burns in 
his rustic dress 
with her inspiring 
mantle. It con- 
tains a Latin in- 
scription, and an 
epitaph in Eng- 
lish. For centu- 
ries Dumfries has 
been a place of 
importance, as the' largest and strongest town in 
the western marches of Scotland, and by way 
of distinction is sometimes called "the Queen of the 
South." It is celebrated as the place where Robert 
Bruce slew John Corny n, a competitor for the throne 
of Scotland. The assassination is said to have 
occurred at the altar in the chapel of the old monas- 
tery of the Greyfriars, not a vestige of which now 
remains. Yet the antiquity of the place is sufficiently 




BURNS' MAUSOLEUM AT DUMFRIES. 



THE POET S OIIA.VE. 



321 



marked by other ruins in the vicinity, the most notice- 
able of which are the remains of a nunnery on the 
banks of the Cluden, and Caerlaverock Castle, the 
ruined seat of the Maxwells, described by Sir Walter 




CAERLAVEROCK CASTLE. 



Scott in his tale of "Guy Mannering," and at the 
present time one of the finest ruins in the United 
Kingdom. 

Dumfries is beautifully situated on the banks of 
the Nith, across which it communicates with its 
suburb, Maxwellen, by two bridges, one of seven 
arches as old as the thirteenth century. The princi- 



322 



benedict's wanderings. 



pal structures are the churches and county buildings, 
a lunatic" asylum, a theatre, a tower on the High 
street, the work of Inigo Jones, r and a handsome 
Doric column, in the principal square, erected in 1780, 
in honor of Charles, Duke of Queensbury. 




■gfSt* - 



CHAPTER XVI. 



SURPRISES. 



^f\ Y the first train the next morning, I left Dum- 



'/*,'* 



| fries to join my friends in Glasgow. There 



r^S^ are niaay lovely landscapes to delight the eye 
of the traveler on the way, particularly those along 
the course of the (Jrawick. A gentleman in the car I 
occupied, pointed out a few dbjects of interest as we 
proceeded : at one place, to the left, Drumlanrig 
Castle, the seat of the Duke of Buccleuch, and to the 
right, the Pass of Dalveen, through which lay the 
Roman highway from the vale of the Nith to the 
head waters of the Clyde ; at another, near Sanquhar, 
the ruins of an old castle, famous in Scottish story as 
having been once captured by Wallace and again by 
Douglass; and at another, the castle of Auchinleck, 
where Samuel Johnson was entertained by the father 
of Boswell, his inimitable biographer. 

It was still early when I left the station in the old 
barony of Gorbals, and entered Glasgow by the way 
of the Broomielaw Bridge. Thinking of my friend, 



324 benedict's wanderings. 

whom I was to meet in Miss Pender's parlor, I did 
not observe a group of fellows near the entrance to 
Jamaica street, until one of them left his companions 
and approached. He was young, a mere stripling, 
neatly dressed, and of good appearance. He smiled 
as he advanced, as though he were an old acquaint- 
ance. There was something familiar in his counte- 
nance, and yet I could not bring him to my 
recollection. 

Perceiving that he was not recognized, he remarked, 
in the language of Lord Thurlow, " When I forget 
my sovereign, may my God forget me." 

Though in the dress of a citizen, and in appearance 
very greatly improved, 'I knew him then ; it was the 
scape-grace, Tom Tackle, who had played the fatal 
trick upon poor Malta. 

"Never mind them," said he, observing me glance 
at his companions. " There is nothing in common 
between us, except hatred for the first officer of the 
Columbia. If ever you hear that he has been beaten 
on the Broomielaw until his own mother wouldn't 
know him — but, mum ! " 

" I fear," said I, shaking my head, disapprovingly, 
'• that you will get yourself into yet greater trouble." 

With a light toss of his head, he replied, " On that 
score, give yourself no uneasiness. Instead, give me 
your address, that I may return you, when in my 



surprises. 325 

power, (I am very sorry it is not now,) the two sove- 
reigns I borrowed in the port of Londonderry." 

As he was my countryman, and evidently under 
some sort of a cloud, which might suddenly burst into 
a storm over his head, I gave him my address, re- 
marking that it was not so much to enable him to 
return the sovereigns, as to afford him an opportunity 
to find me should he at any time require assistance. 

Touched by my kindness, he turned his face aside, 
and dropped a tear he could not suppress. Then, 
recovering himself, he thanked me ; murmured a 
" Good-bye," joined his companions, and disappeared. 

I resumed my course, wondering as I walked 
whether he had committed a crime and was a fugitive 
from justice. His name was not Tom Tackle, he was 
not a sailor by vocation — of these facts I felt satisfied. 
Who was he? whence was he? — why had he left his 
home? why assumed a fictitious name? why engaged 
in an employment of which he was ignorant? 

In the consideration of these questions, which 
suggested themselves to my mind in quick succession, 
I forgot that my friend was waiting for me in Miss 
Pender's parlor, and walked on toward my own apart- 
ment. Presently the pretty serving maid came 
running after me, with a note from Bachelor. He 
had gone out to ride in the Green with Mortimer. 

A little provoked, I entered my sleeping room, 



326 benedict's wanderings. 

where another great surprise awaited me — a letter. I 
took it up, and underneath was another, and under 
that another, and under that still another — one ! two ! 
three ! four ! I glanced at the superscriptions, not 
one of which was my wife's, not one of which was 
familiar. One after another, I tore them open hastily, 
and devoured their contents. 

The first was from Mortimer, containing his com- 
pliments and an invitation to dine with him that day, 
at the Queen's, in George Square. 

The next was post-marked Londonderry. " From 
Father McQuinlan," thought 1 ; "or, possibly, from 
Mr. O'Keeffe." Another surprise! it was from Harry 
Musgrave. 

It was a long letter, full of facts and fun, wit and 
wisdom, and lamentations for his lady-love. I pass 
over all except the facts which caused his lamenta- 
tions. Having visited Blarney Castle, and kissed the 
veritable Blarney Stone, he had returned to London- 
derry, fully prepared to overcome by his eloquence, 
every objection to his espousal of the " colleen bawn." 
What was his surprise on presenting himself at the 
door of the old stone mansion, to be informed by the 
house-keeper, a trusty old servant, that 0' KeefFe and 
his daughter had sailed the day before for some place 
on the continent. The "young mistress," as the 
servant called her, was losing her health, and her 



SURPRISES. 327 

father had taken her to a softer climate, in the hope 
of her speedy recovery. But the exact place was 
forgotten, and neither silver nor gold availed to stim- 
ulate her recollection. Up to the time of writing he 
had been unable to regain any reliable information. 

"O'Neil was right," thought I. "O'Keeffe is 
crafty, and it will require something beside the virtue 
imparted by the Blarney Stone, to overcome — which- 
ever they are — his preferences or his prejudices." 

Not a word had been spoken of this journey a few 
days before when I was in Londonderry. At that 
time, the " colleen bawn " was in perfect health, and 
in high spirits. Had she fallen ill suddenly, or was 
illness an excuse for their sudden departure? 

Meditating upon this thought, I opened the third 
letter, and was again surprised. It was from that 
'•'line ould Irish gintleman," 0' Neil of Downpatrick. 
It was in answer to one I had written him on my 
arrival in Glasgow, thanking him for his many, many 
kindnesses. After a few counter-compliments, and a 
pleasant allusion to some of our astronomical re- 
searches, he mentioned Musgrave, who had spent the 
previous night at his house, and was then on his way 
to Londonderry. 

" Upon my soul," added the writer, " I pitied the 
poor fellow. I knew there was in store for him a 
bitter disappointment. Yet I dare not tell him, for I 



328 benedict's wanderings. 

had it in confidence. 0' Keeffe is dead against him, 
and to make it easy for Nora, has taken her to Italy, 
under the pretence of seeing the country, where they 
will he joined in a few days by young O'Reilly. Of 
course you know what will he the result." 

" Of course I do not," said I, in soliloquy. " If 
not mistaken in Nora M'Kenna, it will require more 
than the wit of 0' Keeffe and the words of O'Reilly to 
control her hand, say nothing of her heart." 

There was yet another letter, a dainty little missive, 
addressed by the hand of a lad}^. The post-mark was 
a dim impression, yet I could count the letters. I 
thought of the "winsome widow," but there were 
too many for Dalkeith; I thought of the " colleen 
bawn," but there were too few for Londonderry. 
There being no other way to determine, I opened the 
letter. Another surprise — a greater than any ! It 
was Inverness, and the writer was the " ship's 
beauty," Mary MacGill. 

"On board the Columbia," said the letter, "you 
did me very great injustice. I told you then the time 
would come when you would make due acknowledge- 
ment. Now I claim it at your hands, and offer you 
time and place and opportunity. Five days hence, 
at twelve o'clock, in the High Church of this city, 
there is to be a wedding, at which I am authorized to 
invite you to be present. The best friend I have on 



SURPRISES. 320 

earth is then to be married, and I am to stand up on 
the occasion." 

There was no allusion to Bachelor, or anything to 
show that he had received a similar invitation. 
Uncertain of the fact, I resolved to say nothing, yet 
to induce him to bear me company. 

As half the day was before me, I answered the 
letters I had received, and then called upon Mrs. 
Small and daughter, whom I found in excellent health 
and spirits, and charming in their conversation. 

At the Queen's, Mortimer lived in fine style. The 
dinner was capital and the wine superb. A friend of 
his was present, Dr. Plunkett, also a Canadian. 
After dinner we had smoke and conversation, during 
which Bachelor casually proposed, for the next day, 
a trip to Inverness. The sly dog ! he had received 
an invitation. 



Ca^S^rr,- 



CHAPTER XVII. 



AMONG THE ISLES. 



(^iftpS Dr. Plunkett wished to descend the Clyde in 




a steamboat, that he might behold Dumbarton 
Castle ; and as Bachelor preferred the cars 
that he might remain an hour longer in bed, it was 
arranged that Mortimer should accompany his friend, 
and I mine, and all meet at Greenock. 

As we crossed the Frith of Clyde, Plunkett was 
profuse in his praises of the castle, winding up with 
the declaration: " It possesses every natural advan- 
tage necessary to make it impregnable if properly 
defended." 

As no one was inclined to dispute this assertion, he 
presently resumed: " On my return, I shall pay it a 
visit. I wish to see the great two-handed sword of 
Wallace." 

" The sword of Wallace is a humbug." 

These words were uttered by a little, old man, thin 
and wrinkled, who stood near our group, listening to 
Plunkett's praises of Dumbarton. 



AMONG THE ISLES. 331 

Of one accord we all regarded the obtruder with 
surprise, and Plunkett was about to reply, reprov- 
ingly, no doubt, when he added: " Pardon me, sir. 
The sword you refer to belongs to the reign of Edward 
V., and was carried by that monarch when he entered 
the city of Chester in state in 1475." 

Turning to a Scotchman at my elbow, I inquired: 
" Who is this man that is robbing your relics of half 
their glory? " 

" He is the Hermit of Skye," replied the Scotch- 
man. " He is an antiquary, a man of remarkable 
research, and — well, to say the least, he is oftener 
right than wrong." 

The presence of an antiquary among us, had a good 
effect upon that class of persons who profess to know 
everything with certainty. Opinions were sparingly 
indulged, and facts stated with reasonable reserva- 
tions ; from which we realized the advantage of 
correct information. 

Our boat touched at Dunoon, a beautiful watering- 
place, to the left of which is a green mound, sur- 
mounted by the remains of Dunoon Castle, once a 
royal residence, but at present the property of the 
Argyle family, to which it passed in 1472. It was 
besieged by the Earl of Lennox in 1554, and was 
visited by Queen Mary in her progress to the High- 
lands. 



332 benedict's wanderings. 

Passing Toward Point, where there is a lighthouse, 
we were shown, on the neighboring height, the ruins 
of Toward Castle, a structure of the fifteenth century, 
now covered with ivy and presenting a most beautiful 
appearance. 

Elsewhere, I have spoken of Eothesay, and the 
ruins of the old royal castle near the harbor. Passing 
through the Kyles of Bute, we encounter on both 
sides the most beautiful scenery. On the island, near 
the village of Port Bannatyne, is an old fortified 
mansion, Karnes Castle, which is still inhabited. 

Rounding Ardlamont Point, we entered Loch Fine, 

the herring of which are celebrated for their flavor 

and fatness, and crossed over to Tarbet. The bays of 

Tarbet, distinguished as East and West, are only 

separated by an isthmus a mile in width, across which 

Bruce, on his way from Bachrin, drew his bark: thus 

alluded to by Scott, in his " Lord of the Isles: " 

■•Up Tarbet's western lake they bore, 
Then dragg'd their bark the isthmus o'er, 
As far as Kilmconnel's sbore, 
Upon the Eastern bay." 

Overlooking the town and harbor are the ruins of 
Tarbet Castle, built by Bruce, and occupied by him 
as a residence in 1326. 

Leaving the steamer at Ardrishaig, we entered the 
Crinan Canal, which is nine miles in length and con- 
tains fifteen locks, and passed through a marshy tract 



AMONG THE ISLES. 333 

of country, to the Bay of Crinan. Proceeding thence, 
we were soon among the islands. Between Jura and 
Scarba, on our left, was pointed out the celebrated 
whirlpool of Corryvrecken, mentioned by Campbell, 
Scott, and other poets. 

On the north side of the harbor of Oban, surmount- 
ing a rocky promontory, are the ruins of Dunolly 
Castle, the ancient seat of the McDougalls of Lorn ; 
and farther north are the remains of Dunstaffnage 
Castle, ranked among the royal palaces, in conse- 
quence of its having been occasionally possessed by 
the early kings of Scotland. It is said that the 
coronation stone in Westminster Abbey, mentioned 
elsewhere in this volume, was transferred to Scone, 
from this ancient seat of royalty, by Kenneth II. 

At Oban, we remained over night, that we might, 

on the following day, visit the ruins of Iona and the 

natural wonders of Stafla. Of that night, 

* * * "But that I am forbid 

To tell the secret, * * * 

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 

Would * * * * 

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres." 

Bachelor, who was looking over my shoulder as I 

wrote this in my book of memorandums, added: 

'' But this eternal blazon must not be 
To ears of flesh and blood." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



HUMAN AND DIVINE. 



^'•HE excursion to Staffa and Iona occupied an 
siflll en ^ n ' e day. Leaving Oban, we passed Kerrera, 
°fei^ a narrow rugged island with which are associ- 
ated important recollections. It was here that Haco, 
King of Norway, met the island chieftains, who 
assisted him in his disastrous descent upon the coast 
of Scotland. Here Alexander II. died on his expedi- 
tion in 1249. And here may still be seen the ruins of 
Gylen, an ancient fortification of the Danes. 

There was nothing more of special interest, until 
we reached Iona, also called Icolmkill, (that is, the 
Isle of Columba's retreat,) a small but famous island 
of the Hebrides, about three miles in length and one 
in breadth. The origin of its celebrity is traced to 
the fact that, about the year 565, it was the residence 
of St. Columba, a native of Ireland, believed to have 
been buried, near St. Patrick and St. Bridget, in the 
cathedral of Downpatrick. This distinguished chris- 
tian preacher founded an abbey in Iona, which was 



HUMAN AND DIVINE. 



335 



celebrated in the Middle Ages, and long remained the 
chief seat of learning in the North, and the center of 
missionary enterprise undertaken by the Culdees. At 
the Reformation, the monks were displaced, and the 




^s>^ 



RUINS OF IONA. 

island annexed to the bishopric of Argyle, by James 
VI. The nunswere allowed to remain, and continued 
to live^together for a long time after that event. 

These celebrated ruins consist of a cathedral, a 
nunnery, and a chapel. The principal edifice is the 
Cathedral of St. Mary, which is one hundred and 
sixty feet in length, sixty in breadth, and seventy in 
height to the top of the tower. St. Oran's Chapel, 



336 benedict's wanderings. 

which is about sixty feet in length by twenty in width, 
is the most ancient of these ecclesiastical remains. It 
is in the Saxon style of architecture, and is supposed 
to have been built by the Norwegians. The nunnery 
is the most modern of the ruins, and had no connec- 
tion with the monastic institution. The style of 
architecture is Norman, such as was in vogue at the 
middle of the thirteenth century. 

In time, by reason of its sanctity, the island obtained 
preference over all other burial-places in Scotland. 
No less than forty Scottish kings were buried here, 
besides many of the Lords of the Isles, among the 
latter MacDonald, whose tomb remains, and Ronald, 
whom Scott describes as 

" The heir of mighty Somerled, 

* # * # # 

Lord of the Isles, whose lofty name 
A thousand hards have given to fame." 

Many Highland families of distinction buried their 

dead on the island, and erected votive chapels and 

stone crosses to their memory. At one time the 

island was adorned by three hundred and sixty of 

these crosses, only two of which remain at this day, 

the others having been thrown into the sea, about the 

year 1560, by order of the Synod of Argyle. The 

two that remain are St. Martin's, near the chapel, a 

beautiful specimen of antique carving, and MacLean's, 

another excellent specimen, though not quite so pels 



HUMAN AND DIVINE. 337 

feet, which stands between the cathedral and the 
nunnery. 

About nine miles from Iona, is the island of Staffa, 
which is about two miles in circumference. It is 
composed in part of a ledge of conglomerate trap, and 
in part of compact columnar basalt, the rock at one 
place rising to the height of a hundred and forty-four 
feet. The coast is indented with numerous romantic 
caverns, the most celebrated of which are FingaFs 
Cave, Clam-shell Cave, Boat Cave, and the Cormo- 
rant's Cave. ..The latter two are small, and compara- 
tively of but little importance. The second, which 
is the first approached, is thirty feet in height, eigh- 
teen in breadth at the entrance, and a hundred and 
thirty in length. On one side the columns recline, 
giving it the appearance of a pecten-shcll, from which 
it derives its name ; on the other, the wall is formed 
of the ends of horizontal columns, resembling the 
iace of a honeycomb. 

The only one, however, which we were allowed 
time to visit, (the others wecould only see in passing,) 
was Fingal's Cave. We landed from the steamer in 
small boats, and passing over a rugged causeway 
formed of truncated columns, which vary from twelve 
to thirty-six inches in diameter, descended by an un- 
even stairway-a hundred feet in length, to its inner- 
most recesses. The undertaking is difficult, and 



338 



benedict's wanderings. 



attended with some danger, but must be accomplished 
before the grandeur of the cave can be appreciated. 

It is a vast archway, nearly seventy feet in];\height, 
two hundred and thirty in length, forty-two in width 
at the mouth, and twenty at the inner extremity. 




FINGAIi's CAVE. 

The face of the island and sides and arches of the 
cave, strongly resemble architectural designs. They 
are composed of countless complicated columns, simi- 
lar to those of the Giant's Causeway. Indeed, the 
popular tradition connects these two places, and 
ascribes their construction to Fingal, or Fin McCoul, 
the giant. 

Keturning, we passed through the Sound of Mull, 
celebrated for its natural beauties, and for its histori- 



HUMAN AND DIVINE. 339 

cal and traditional associations. The shores are bold 
and mountainous, and on cliffs overhanging the sea 
are the ruins of many ancient castles. Mingarry, 
Aros, Ardtornish and Duart, the most noted of these, 
were residences of Lords of the Isles. The last men- 
tioned was the seat of the chief of the powerful clan 
of MacLeans, infamous in song and history for having 
attempted his wife's destruction. He exposed her on 
a rock, since known as the Lady Rock, visible only at 
low tide, intending that she should be swept away by 
the flood tide ; but her cries being heard by some 
fisherman, she was rescued and carried to her friends. 
MacLean, who gave out that she had died suddenly, 
was allowed to go through the ceremony of a mock 
funeral, but was shortly afterwards assassinated by 
the brother of the injured lady, Sir John Campbell of 
Calder. 





CHAPTER XIX. 

THE WEDDING PARTY. 

")MONG the works of man in Scotland, next to 
the enlargement of the Clyde, the object most 
worthy of notice is the Caledonia Canal. It 
was my desire to pass through it, and I was happy 
when the invitation of Miss MacGrill afforded me the 
opportunity. It is sixty miles in length from ocean 
to ocean, thirty-seven through natural sheets of water, 
and twenty-three cut as a canal, with a depth of 
seventeen feet. It is navigated by steamers. 

A portion of the country through which we passed 
is highly interesting, while another portion has but 
little to attract attention. The scenery of Loch 
Linnhe, the Knolls of Appin on one hand, and on the 
other the hills of Morven, is highly romantic. Loch 
Oich, with its scenic surroundings, is unsurpassed for 
beauty and majesty. 

From Ballachulish we proceeded by coach to Grlen- 
coe, which excells all the glens of Scotland in the 
gloomy sublimity of its scenery. Through a portion 



THE WEDDING PARTY. 



341 



of it sweeps the " dark torrent of Cona," on the banks 
of which was born the poet Ossian. Glencoe was the 
scene of the masacre of the clan MacDonald, by the 
English troops, after their submission — a most in- 




GLENCOE. 

famous treachery. The ruins of the houses of this 
nearly extinct clan is a scene of desolation. 

Returning to the steamer, we proceeded to Benavie, 
passing Fort- William, originally built by Gen. Monk 
to overawe the disaffected Highlanders, but rebuilt on 
a smaller scale in the reign of William III. It was 
late in the afternoon when we reached Benavie, where 
we were obliged to remain until morning. During 
the day a mist had dampened my clothes (in America 



342 benedict's wanderings. 

I should say a rain had wet them), and I went to bed 
with a distracting neuralgia. 

'' I would not spend another such a night." 

The next morning, as the boat was about to leave 
the wharf, to my infinite surprise Donald Dinnie, 
covered with his many medals, stalked aboard and 
procured a passage for Inverness. Not for a moment 
did I doubt that he, too, was going to the wedding, 
on an invitation from "the ship's beauty." 

"Ah! Mary MacGill," I soliloquized, " how little 
room you have to upbraid me for having done you 
injustice on the old Columbia. If I charged you with 
coquetry, what is this but a proof of it? — an invita- 
tion to a string of admirers, to somebody's wedding, 
that you may bring them again within the power of 
your bewitching influence." 

After we had got fairly under way, I informed 
Bachelor that his old rival was on board, and that he 
was going to Inverness. Startled by the news, he 
clapped his hand upon his breast; but I am uncertain 
to this hour, whether it was to still his heart or to 
make sure that he had his Derringer. 

Dinnie, observing us, joined some friends on the 
other side of the vessel, and during the entire voyage, 
avoided a recognition. 

Little of interest occurred until we reached the 
mouth of the Foyers river, where the boat stopped to 



THE WEDDING PARTY. 343 

afford the passengers an opportunity to view the falls, 
the most magnificent in Great Britain. 

There are two cataracts, the upper, thirty feet high, 
twice broken in its descent ; and the lower, quarter of 
a mile distant, about ninety feet high, descending in 
an unbroken sheet of dazzling whiteness, into a stu- 
pendous chasm, between gigantic rocks that rise sheer 
upwards to the height of forest trees. Professor 
Wilson once wrote: "It is worth walking a thousand 
miles for one hour to behold the Fall of Foyers." 

At the distance of five or six miles, the ruins of 
Castle Urquhart, the last to surrender to Edward I., 
was pointed out to us ; and with that exception, I 
remember nothing of special interest until we reached 
Inverness. 

Upon leaving the vessel, Dinnie ■ proceeded at once 
to the High Church. Keeping him in sight, we 
found our way without difficulty. At the church, 
through the door of which he was about to pass, an 
old Scotch sexton laid his hand gently on the arm of 
the giant, and said, " Not without a card." 

At first Dinnie was a little disconcerted, then tak- 
ing from his pocket a dainty little letter, such as I 
had received at Glasgow, he opened it before the eyes 
of the old Cerberus, who immediately stepped aside 
and bowed in a most respectful manner. 

Meantime, I observed Bachelor fumbling among a 



344 benedict's wandekings. 

batch of billets, with a scared look in his face, such as 
we sometimes see in that of a traveler, who discovers 
when about to pay his fare, that he has left his wallet 
behind under his pillow. 

Presently, however, he fished out from the mass 
one that exactly resembled mine and Dinnie's, and 
presenting it, was immediately admitted, and his 
friends, with the marks of respect bestowed upon 
Dinnie. 

An usher took us forward, and placed us in a pew 
with Dinnie, next to whom Bachelor was obliged to 
sit. They looked at each other, but there was noth- 
ing like a recognition. 

After the lapse of a few minutes, the wedding party 
entered, headed by a lovely lassie and — do my eyes 
deceive me? — Sandy Stewart, the gawky Scotchman 
to whom Dinnie entrusted his baggage on leaving the 
Columbia at Moville. Behind them were another 
couple, who were followed by another, who were 
followed by yet another, and then — I fairly lost my 
breath! — the bridal pair — the handsomest man I had 
seen in Scotland, and on his arm, more beautiful than 
ever, the lovely Mary MacGrill. 

Before I had time to think, the nuptial rites com- 
menced — a most impressive ceremony ; at the close of 
which the wedding party retired, and were immedi- 
ately followed by the congregation. 



THE WEDDING PARTY. 345 

" I think," said Dinnie, addressing Bachelor with 
a smile, " that the scene we have just witnessed ought 
to put an end to our foolish quarrel. Allow me to 
ask your pardon? " 

Of all men, Bachelor is the least disposed to hold 
resentment, and to resist such a frank avowal of 
wrong, was quite beyond his power. In five minutes 
they were friends. Having introduced Mortimer and 
Plunkett, we all left the church together. 

From the old sexton I learned something of the 
bridal pair. The groom was William Stewart, a 
young gentleman of education and wealth, and Mary 
MacGill was an orphan. She had received a superior 
education, but her father had squandered his patri- 
mony, and at his death had left her poor, and depen- 
dent upon her own exertions. She and Stewart were 
engaged, but they had a lover's quarrel, which led 
first to their separation, and afterwards to her emigra- 
tion to America. There she had been a governess, 
until Stewart, who could not leave his business, sent 
his brother to bring her back to Scotland. 

" Now they are married," the old man added; "and, 
thanks be to God ! on leaving the church they had 
the sunshine of heaven to light their footsteps to 
future bliss." 

Indeed, it was so. There was a mist in the morn- 
ing, a heavier mist at noon when the bridal party 



346 benedict's wanderings. 

entered the church ; but at the opening of the nuptial 
ceremony, the clouds broke away, and the sun burst 
forth in all the glory of his effulgence — by many 
people beside the old sexton, thought to be a good 
omen. 

Repairing to the Union hotel, we ordered dinner, 
and while it was being prepared, drove to Culloden 
Moor, a vast desolate tract of table land, about five 
miles from the town, the scene of the final defeat of 
the Highland army under Prince Charles Stewart. 
From this battle field can be seen the castle of Dal- 
cross, an old square tower, a hold of the Clan- 
Chattan. Returning, we passed the eminence on 
which stood the ancient castle in which Macbeth is 
supposed to have murdered Duncan. 

Inverness is a town of great antiquity. The public 
buildings occupy an eminence on the south side of the 
town, the site of a castle erected by Malcolm Canmore, 
son of Duncan. In this castle James I. held a parlia- 
ment, and for several centuries it was a royal fortress. 
It passed through many changes, and was eventually 
blown up by the troops of Prince Charles Stewart. 

Our dinner was what we had ordered — the best the 

house afforded. It was served in courses, with wine. 

It was spiced with lively conversation. It was, in 

short, 

" The feast of reason and the flow of soul." 



CHAPTER XX. 



IN MINE INN. 



INVERNESS has many other places of interest, 
I historical and traditional ; but it was impos- 
t^| sible to visit them that afternoon, as the mist 
of the morning, by the time our dinner was over, had 
returned in the more decided form of a pelting rain. 
I should have enjoyed another drive ; I think the 
others were quite satisfied with their fate. 

Here, one word more of Donald Dinnie. If I have 
hitherto said anything that could possibly give offence 
to him or his friends, I take it back without reserva- 
tion ; and I entreat, if they do me the honor to read 
these pages — as I have no doubt they will — that they 
will skip over all such passages. Dinnie — aside from 
a little self-importance, the result of the many bril- 
liant successes he has achieved in the peculiar field of 
his ambition — is, socially, one of the very best fellows 
I met anywhere in all my wanderings. 

The pleasures of that evening were, to say the least, 



348 benedict's wanderings. 

rich, rare and racy ; but 1 have not space, and I 
regret I have not, to speak more at length 
" Of j(ws that faded like the morning dew." 

Though we left Inverness together, at the end of a 
few hours we were widely separated. At Fort- 
Augustus, Dr. Plunkett left us to enjoy a visit to the 
unique museum of Gordon dimming, the great lion- 
hunter, consisting chiefly of skins, skeletons and horns 
of animals despatched by himself. 

Near the mouth of Garry river, the ruins of Inver- 
garry Castle, an ancient gathering- j)lace of the clan 
MacDonell, was pointed out; and a short distance 
from Fort-William, the Castle of Inverlochy, where 
Montrose achieved one of his most decisive victories. 

At Ballachulish our party divided, Bachelor and I 
diverging to Loch Lomond. At Oban, Mortimer and 
Dinnie were to separate, the former to j>roceed by way 
of Inverary to Glasgow, and the latter to follow the 
coast to Campbeltown, where he had friends. 

Except the wild mountain scenery of Glencoe, and 
the scene of the massacre of the clan MacPonald, 
there was nothing worthy of notice on the route 
Bachelor and I had chosen, until we reached 
Tyndrum, not far from which King Kobert Bruce 
was encountered and repulsed, after a severe engage- 
ment, by the Lord of Lorn. At the distance of 
about two miles, there is a cataract in the river Ettrick, 



350 benedict's wanderings. 

called St. Fillan's Pool, where it was the custom, in 
former times, and even as late as 1844, to immerse 
lunatics, in the expectation of effecting a cure of their 
malady. 

Again, there was nothing of interest until we reached 
Loch Lomond, the largest lake in Scotland, thus 
described by Scott in his novel of Bob Roy : " This 
noble lake, boasting innumerable beautiful islands of 
every varying form and outline which fancy can frame 
— its northern extremity narrowing until it is lost 
among dusky and retreating mountains, while gradu- 
ally widening as . it extends to the southward, it 
spreads its base around the indentures and promon- 
tories of a fair and fertile land, affords one of the most 
surprising, beautiful, and sublime spectacles in nature." 

At Inversnaid Mill, had we ascended the lake, we 

should have crossed the country to Loch Katrine, 

descending which the retainers of Roderick Dhii sang 

the spirited song, beginning — 

" Hail to the Chief, who in triumph advances ! 
Honor'd and bless 1 d be tlie ever-green Pine! 
Long may the Tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! " 

The valley between these lakes is celebrated as the 
home of Rob Roy, and the birth-place of his wife, 
Helen. In it is Inversnaid Fort, erected by the Gov- 
ernment in 1713, to check the McGregors, where 
General Wolf, the hero of Quebec, once resided. 



IN MINE INN. 351 

Descending the lake, we observed, along the shores, 
a number of fine seats, and the ruins of several ancient 
castles; the most noticeable of the latter being Luss, 
Barnachra, Lennox and Balloch. Nearly opposite 
Tarbet, at which the boat touches, is a cliff called Rob 
Roy's Prison, where that noted chieftain of his pro- 
scribed and nameless clan, formerly kept his prisoners 
until their ransom was paid. 

Having reached the foot of the lake, we took the 
train to Bowling, and thence to Glasgow, where we 
arrived in the evening. After supper at our hotel, we 
dropped in at the Queen's to see Mortimer, and 
arrange for an excursion to Edinburgh ; but to our 
surprise, he had not yet got back. Leaving our cards, 
we returned to the Argyle, and spent the evening, 
very pleasantly, with our Italian friends, the Count 
and Countess di Lavarello. 



~» ^ISliililaSvSl ?• «■ 



CHAPTER XXI. 



NOT AT HOME. 




|)T an early hour the next morning, we repaired 
to the Queen's, hut Mortimer had not returned. 
What had hecome of him? He ought to 
have reached home hefore Bachelor and myself, for he 
had a shorter distance to travel, and over a more 
expeditious route. At least, he had nothing to detain 
him beyond an hour or two at Inverary, while we had 
spent a day — one long to be remembered — on the lake 
and mountain of Lomond. Where was he detained? 
or whither had he turned aside? and for what pur- 
pose? It was needless to conjecture ; it was sufficient 
that he was not at home. 

As our time in Scotland was growing short, I was 
anxious to proceed at once to Edinburgh, lest I should 
be deprived of a visit — as I said, to the capital, but 
as Bachelor added, to Dalkeith. It had been arranged 
between Bachelor and Mortimer, before we parted at 
Ballachulish, that whoever^arrived back at Glasgow 



NOT AT HOME. 353 

first, should wait the coming of the other, that they 
might visit the castle together, Mortimer being 
familiar with all the relics of noteworthy importance. 
Of course Bachelor could not disregard his engage- 
ment, yet unwilling to bereave me of the pleasure I 
anticipated, he proposed that I should proceed at 
once, and that we should all meet the next day at the 
Royal Hotel, opposite Sir Walter Scott's monument. 

On the very next train I was off, by the way of 
Hamilton and Lanark, that I might enjoy a view of 
the magnificent ruins of Bothwell Castle and the 
falls of the Clyde. 

From Hamilton I went on foot to Bothwell Bridge, 
the scene of the famous battle in 1679, between the 
Eoyal forces, under the Duke of Monmouth, and the 
Covenanters, in which the former, gained an easy 
victory. 

In the village of Bothwell, a little further on, are 
the remains of an ancient Gothic church, in which 
Robert, Duke of Rothesay, who was afterwards starved 
to death by his uncle, the Duke of Albany, in Falk- 
land Palace, was married to a daughter of Archibald 
the Grim, Earl of Douglass. 

Half a mile beyond the village, are the ruins of 
Bothwell Castle, now the property of the Countess of 
Home, to whom it receded, a few years ago, on the 
death of her uncle, Baron Douglass. It is a noble 



NOT AT HOME. 355 

structure, built of red free-stone, and consists of an 
oblong quadrangle, built in the Norman style of 
architecture. In length it is two hundred and thirty- 
four feet, by about a hundred in width ; and the walls, 
which are fourteen feet in thickness, are sixty in 
height. It contains an immense circular dungeon, 
twenty-five feet deep and twelve wide, called Wallace's 
Beef-barrel. 

The origin of this castle is unknown ; it was first 
heard of in the time of Wallace. It then belonged to 
Sir Andrew Murray of Bothwell, who was the first 
nobleman to join the humble hero in his attempt to 
achieve the independence of his country, and the last 
to forsake him after his failure. 

On the south side of the Clyde, directly opposite to 
Bothwell Castle situated on the brink of a perpen- 
dicular rock, are the ruins of Blantyre priory, alluded 
to in a fragmentary ballad of Scott : 

"If chance, by Bothwell's lovely braes 
A wanderer thou hast been, 
Or hid thee from the summer's blaze 
In Blantyre's bowers of green, — " 

Returning to Hamilton, I visited Hamilton Palace, 
the seat of the Duke of Hamilton, which is said to 
contain the finest collection of paintings in Scotland. 
The park is truly magnificent, embracing a great 
variety of wild wood and water scenery, and the ruins 
of Cadyow Castle, the ancient baronial residence of 



356 benedict's wanderings. 

the family of Hamilton, near which are the remains of 
the Caledonia forest, the trees of which are twenty- 
five feet and upwards in circumference. 

At Motherwell station, I took the cars again for 
Lanark, through " one uninterrupted series of grove, 
garden and orchard — a billowy ocean of foliage, wav- 
ing in the summer wind, and glowing under the 
summer sun," and popularly known as " The Land of 
Fruits." 

Between these places I noticed a number of hand- 
some seats, and near the junction of the Nethan and 
the Clyde, situated on a single rock, overhanging the 
former stream, the ruins of the Castle of Craignethan, 
an extensive fortress, the seat of Sir James Hamilton, 
a man noted for his sanguinary character in the reign 
of Edward V. 

Further on, where the channel of the river becomes 
narrow and rugged, is the Fall of Stonebyres, the 
first of the falls of the Clyde. It is a scene of great 
grandeur. 

In visiting the other falls, I went first to Ben- 
nington Linn, the uppermost, two miles from Lanark, 
by a path through the grounds of Bennington House. 
Here the water falls over a perpendicular rock about 
thirty feet high, and then rushes on with feariul 
rapidity, through a chasm so narrow at one place 
that. it might be stepped across. Half a mile below 



NOT AT HOME. 357 

is Corra Linn, the principal fall, and the grandest in 
appearance. Here the river makes three distinct 
leaps, together about eighty-five feet — next to Foyers 
the most magnificent cataract in Scotland. 

Lanark is the place where Wallace commenced his 
efforts to free his country from the oppression of 
England. In the vicinity, a number of localities are 
identified with his name and exploits. In Bonnington 
House are preserved a curious chair upon which he 
is said to have sat, and his portrait. 

There were many other places of interest in the 

neighborhood, some of which I desired to see, but had 

not the time required ; or, — 

" I make an open fair confession, 
1 scorn to lie " — 

I hoped to find something of equal or greater interest 
at Dalkeith, which I had promised to visit before 
leaving Scotland. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



THE MODERN ATHENS. 



IJmIJT was night when I entered Edinburgh, and I 
SjlU was only able to see as " through a glass, 
«<j|M darkly," by the light of the street lamps. But 
even under such a disadvantage, I could perceive evi- 
dences of what I had been told, that there are no 
squalid suburbs, as in the other cities of the United 
Kingdom. For the most part, the abodes of poverty 
are confined to the many-storied buildings in the older 
portion of the city, out of sight of the stranger as he 
passes through the principal thoroughfares. It is said 
there is no city in the country in which the general 
standard of excellence is so well maintained. 

As it was late when I arrived, I dispensed with 
supper, contenting myself with a glass of ale and a 
bannock. Thinking it possible that on the return of 
Mortimer, he and Bachelor might set out at once to 
meet me in Edinburgh, I gave directions, should any 
one inquire for me, no matter at what hour, to give 



360 



BENEDICTS WANDERINGS. 



me immediate notice. This done, I went to bed, and 
was soon where a tired man most delights to be, snng 
in the arms of Morpheus. 

I left my bed at an early hour the next morning, 
and after a hearty breakfast to make up for the loss 
of my supper, sauntered forth on a tour of observa- 
tion. Without any particular place in view, I entered 
the street ; where the first object that attracted my 

attention was the 
magnificent monu- 
ment to Sir Walter 
Scott. The height 
is two hundred and 
ten feet, and a stair 
of two hundred and 
eighty- seven steps, 
conducts to a g-al- 
lery at the top. 
There are between 
fifty and sixty 
niches, many of 
which are now oc- 

THE SCOTT MONUMENT. cup j ed by sculptu . 

ral impersonations of the author's principal characters. 
The marble statue of Scott, by Steell, is conspicu- 
ously placed in the monument. 

After carefully viewing this superb structure, I took 




THE MODERN ATHENS. 361 

a westward course, attracted by the beauty of Princes 
Street Gardens, and continued in that direction as far 
as the Lothian Road. On the way, I passed the 
Royal Institution, one of the handsomest modern 
structures in the city ; the Free Church College, also 
a fine edifice ; the New Club, an aristocratic associa- 
tion composed of noblemen and gentlemen ; and the 
Mound, formed by the deposition of the dirt taken 
from the foundations of buildings, — a convenient av- 
enue between the Old and New Town. 

In my stroll I also passed the Castle, but as I had 
promised Bachelor that we would visit it together, 
under the guidance of Mortimer, I turned aside to 
look at the old house of Allen Ramsey, author of 
" The Gentle Shepherd," and then resumed my walk 
in Princes street, at the end of which are two 
churches, St. John's Chapel, a beautiiul Gothic struc- 
ture, and St. Cuthbert's, a huge, unsightly pile, with- 
out regard to any style of architecture. 

Thence I proceeded to Moray Place, the most 
elegant and fashionable portion of the New Town, 
celebrated for its architectural magnificence ; but 
though it must be confessed that the buildings are 
very costly, the uniformity of the style — the seveio 
simplicity and massiveness — impart to them a monot- 
onous if not a gloomy appearance. 

After a glance at the Queen Street Gardens, another 



362 benedict's wanderings. 

of those pleasure grounds which add so much to the 
beauty of the city, I passed through Castle street, in 
which I saw the town residence of Sir Walter Scott, 
an ordinary house, and entered George street to behold 
the statues of Pitt, George IV., and Lord Melville. 
The first two of these, respectively at the intersection 
of Frederick and Hanover streets with George, are 
bronzes by Chantrey. The last, which is one hundred 
and fifty feet high, including the statue by which it 
is surmounted, graces the center of St. Andrew's 
Square ; on one corner of which stands the residence 
of David Hume, the historian, and on the opposite 
corner the house in which Lord Brougham was born. 

As by this time the train from Glasgow had ar- 
rived, I hurried back to the Royal, in the hope of 
finding my friends ; but was disappointed — doubly 
disappointed, indeed, for not only had they not come, 
but they had sent me no letter or other information. 

"Very well, 1 ' said I, to myself, a little chagrined 
at their neglect, " T shall take a stroll through the 
Qld Town, and if they are not here when 1 return, 
then— Dalkeith ! " 



CHAPTER XXIIT. 



THE OLD TOWN. 




|ERHAPS I ought to have visited the Old 
Town first, but I had no one to guide me. 
^SIp Mr Blaiki e, whom I had met on the Clyde, 
was not in the city, and I had no other acquaintance. 
Left to myself, I turned my face toward the oast, and 
by dint of inquiry, found my way to the most noted 
places in the older portion of the city. 

Passing through Princes street I runic to the 
-Register House, a handsome edifice, forming a square 
of two hundred feet, and containing one hundred 
apartments for the transaction of business. In front 
of the building stands the equestrian statue of the 
Duke of Wellington, by Steell— said to be, like his 
statue of Scott, a most faithful likeness. 

Con tinning eastward, 1 ascended Calton Hill, upon 
which are situated the old and new Observatories, 
and monuments to Dugald Stewart, Professor Play- 
fair, and Nelson, the last a pillar of ponderous pro- 
portions. Near by are the twelve columns of the 



THE OLD TOWN. 365 

National Monument, a structure intended to be after 
the model of the Parthenon, for the commemoration of 
the heroes of Waterloo : but for want of funds, it 
remains unfinished. It reminded me of the monu- 
ment to Washington in the Federal City — in its 
present condition, a disgrace to the country. 

From the top of Calton Hill, in the churchyard 
across the street, I noticed the circular tower erected 
as a monument to Hume ; and on tin; southern slope 
of the hill, a monument to Burns. 

Descending by a foot-path to the North Back of 
the Cannongate, I found myself at Holyrood Palace, 
an ancient residence of Scottish Royalty. It is a 
handsome quadrangular building, with a central court 
ninety feet square. The front is flanked with double 
castellated lowers, which give it a military appear- 
ance. The most interesting relics are the bed- 
chamber of Queen Mary, in the condition she left it; 
the cabinet where Rizzio, her secretary and favorite, 
was surprised and murdered : and the stains of his 
blood on the floor, plainly visible after the lapse of 
two and a half centuries. 

Of the Abbey of Holyrood House, founded in 1128, 
by David I., to commemorate his miraculous deliver- 
ance from the perilous attack of a stag, nothing 
remains but the mouldering ruins of the chapel. In 
this chapel, Charles I. was crowned in 1633; and in 



366 



benedict's wanderings. 



the south-east corner, are deposited the remains of 
David II., James II., James V. and Magdalen his 
Queen, Henry Lord Darnley, and others of distinc- 
tion. The precincts of the Abbey, including Arthur's 




HOUSE OP JOHN KNOX. 



S ea t — from the summit of which I obtained some 
beautiful prospects of the city — and the Salisbury 
Crags, are a sanctuary for insolvent debtors. 

Returning, I passed up the Canongate, by Queens- 
bury House, in which Lady Catherine Hyde, Duchess 
of Queensbury, patronized Gay the poet ; and by 
Moray House, the ancient mantion of the Earl of 



THE OLD TOWN. 367 

Moray, in which Cromwell resided during his visit to 
Edinburgh — to the head of the Netherbow, where 
stands the house of John Knox, carefully preserved as 
in the time of the Reformation. 

In the vicinity of this antiquated residence, partic- 
ularly in High street and the lanes leading from it, 
are many houses of immense height, some of them 
containing no less than eleven or twelve stories. Some 
of these lanes do not exceed six feet in width, and the 
houses in them are the squalid abodes of the lowest 
of the population. 

Farther up High street is Parliamentary Square — 
formed by the Parliamentary House, the Police Office, 
the Chambers of the Courts of Exchequer, the Ad- 
vocates' and Signet Libraries, and St. Giles Cathedral 
— in the centre of whicli is an equestrian statue of 
Charles II., considered one of the best specimens of 
metal statuary in Edinburgh. 

The origin of the cathedral is unknown ; but it is of 
very great antiquity, since it is mentioned in a Charter 
of David II., in 1359. Gavin Douglas, the Scottish 
poet, who translated Virgil, was at one time its provost. 
Within its walls James VI., before taking possession 
of the throne of England, delivered a farewell address 
to his Scottish subjects. Near the center of the south 
side the Marquis of Montrose and the Regent Murray 
are buried. On the outside of the northern wall is 



368 benedict's wanderings. 

the monument to Napier of Merchiston, the inventor 
of logarithms. And in the cemetery the remains of 
John Knox were deposited. 

In the hall where the Scottish Parliament met 
before the Union — one hundred and twenty-two feet 
long and forty-nine broad — are two statues, one of 
Henry Dundas, the first Lord Melville, and the other 
of the eminent lawyer, Lord President Blair. 

The Advocates' Library contains 150,000 volumes 
and 1,700 manuscripts, and the Signet Library 50,000 
volumes. 

Next the libraries is the County Hall, which con- 
tains a statue of Lord Chief Baron Dundas, by 
Chantrey. Opposite St. Giles is the Royal Exchange, 
containing the Council Chamber for the meetings of 
the Magistracy, and other places for the transaction of 
business. Farther on is a fine Gothic structure, called 
Victoria Hall, erected as a place of meeting for the 
General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. 

Thence I crossed George the Fourth's Bridge, and 
visited the Greyi'iiars" Church-yard, in ancient times 
belonging to the monastery of Greyfriars, which was 
situated in the Grassmarket. In this burying ground 
were interred George Buchanan, the Latin poet, Allan 
Eamsey, the Scottish poet, Principal Robertson, the 
historian, Dr. Black, the distinguished chemist, Dr. 



tHE OLD TOWtf. 369 

M'Crie, the biographer of Knox, and other men of 
eminence. 

In tliis neighborhood, are the City Poor's Hospital, 
George Watson's Hospital, and Herriot's Hospital ; 
the last one of the ornaments of the city, built in the 
Elizabethan style, from a design by Inigo Jones. 

Passing through George's Square, at the close of 
the last century the principal place of residence of 
the higher ranks of the city, — among others the Coun- 
tess of Glasgow, the Countess of Sutherland, the 
Duchess of Gordon, Hon. Henry Erskine, and Walter 
Scott, Esq., father of the novelist, — I proceeded by 
way of the Royal College of Surgeons, an edifice dis- 
tinguished for its classic elegance, to the University. 

Properly, this institution had its origin in a royal 
charter granted by James VI., in 1582. By the lib- 
erality of the King, and private benefactions, it rap- 
idly advanced in importance, and in the eighteenth 
century attained a celebrity unsurpassed by any 
similar institution in Europe. The present edifice is 
of a quadrangular form, having two sides of three 
hundred and fifty-eight feet, and two of two hundred 
and fifty-five feet, with a spacious court in the centre. 
The eastern front is adorned with a portico, supported 
by Doric columns, each a single stone twenty-six feet 
in height. The library room, by far the finest in 
Scotland, is graced by the statue of Burns by Flax- 



370 benedict's wanderings. 

man. The number of students range from a thousand 
to twelve hundred. 

I had a desire to visit the library, but it being the 
hour when another train was due from Glasgow, I 
denied myself the pleasure, and hastened again to the 
hotel, that I might be there to welcome my friends. 
But though I looked anxiously as each passenger ar- 
rived, neither Bachelor nor Mortimer put in an ap- 
pearance. I waited nearly an hour, to afford them 
the amplest time necessary ; and then, thoroughly 
vexed, I scribbled a hasty note to Bachelor, informing 
him that I had gone to Dalkeith. 



*m. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



AT DALKEITH. 




jT was not yet dark when I arrived at the town 
| of Dalkeith, the residence of Alexander Fra- 
zer, and the temporary abode of his sister, 
Mrs. Maxwell. In the vicinity of Dalkeith there 
are many places of celebrity, worthy of an excur- 
sion from the capital ; some of which, it will be 
remembered, Mrs. Maxwell held ont to us as an 
inducement to visit her brother. But if I were to 
assert that it was these objects I went to see, I fear 
no one would believe me, though I have gone 
many miles out of my way to visit places of far 
less interest. Perhaps it is better that I should not 
attempt to disguise the fact, that it was the " win- 
some widow" attracted me in that particular direction. 
Had it not been for her, I should have gone to Mel- 
rose instead, to visit Abbottsford, the seat of Sir 
Walter Scott, and to behold by moonlight the finest 



372 benedict's wanderings. 

specimen of Gothic style and sculpture ever erected 
in the country, the ruins of the Abbey : 

" If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 
Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 
For the gay beams of lightsome day 
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray." 

At the same time, I wish to be rightly understood 
in this delicate matter. The steamer in which we 
were to sail for Italy, would leave Glasgow in a very 
short time — two or three days at most — and this was 
the only way in which I could further what I con- 
ceived to be the highest interests of my friend Bach- 
elor. It was my hope that, on his arrival in Edin- 
burgh, he would follow me to Dalkeith, and become 
convinced of the absurdity of the views he entertained 
on the subject of monogomy. My observation leads 
me to believe there is no argument so powerful where 
this subject is under discussion, as the soft light of 
bright eyes and the gentle rippling of ruby lips. 

I was saved the trouble of inquiring the way to the 
residence of Mr. Frazer, that gentleman being at the 
station when the train arrived. He was very cordial 
in his welcome, and expressed the hope that I had 
come to spend at least a sennight. 

The residence of Mr. Frazer was an old fashioned * 
house, with a wide hall in the center, and spacious 
apartments on each hand, one of which was the parlor. 



AT DALKEITH. 373 

In this room, when I entered, were two women, the 
" winsome widow " and Mrs. Frazer, the latter also 
young, and handsome of a certain style by some much 
admired. 

Never before had the widow appeared to such ad- 
vantage in my eyes. On board the ship she had 
dressed becomingly of course, but in a subdued, 
sorrowful style. But now she was " arrayed in purple 
and fine linen," and looked as though she "fared 
sumptuously every day." She was enchantingly 
beautiful. 

Of course she inquired after my " friend Bachelor," 
but only in a complimentary way ; in his welfare, 
evidently, she was not in the least interested. I 
endeavored to make him the subject of conversation, 
but failed to elicit any favorable responses. She did 
not even so much as inquire why he had not borne me 
company. 

The next morning being pleasant, Mr. Frazer took 
me to see some of the noted places in the neighbor- 
hood, Mrs. Frazer and Mrs. Maxwell bearing us com- 
pany. The conveyance, though not overstylish, was 
comfortable, there being two seats, the one in front 
occupied by Mr. Frazer and wife, and the other by 
the widow and myself. The horses were fresh and 
fast, and " did fly upon the wings of the wind." In 
the main, the roads were good ; but here and there 



374 benedict's wandekings. 

was a rut, into which Mr. Frazer drove with the same 
headlong speed, displacing both ladies at times, but 
more frequently the widow, who, being slight, was 
thrown into my arms so often, that I really felt for 
her. 

Our drive extended from Dalkeith Palace, the seat 
of the Duke of Buccleuch, a large, inelegant building, 
between the North and South Esk, near their conflu- 
ance, to New Hall, once the residence of Dr. Penny- 
cuik, the antiquary and poet, the vale of which is 
supposed to be the scene of Allan Ramsay' s pastoral 
drama, " The Gen|Je Shepherd." This house con- 
tains, beside an extensive collection of excellent paint- 
ings, a number of Roman antiquities, found in Britain, 
and the coat worn by Dundee at the battle of Killie- 
crankie. 

Passing Melville Castle, built by Harry Dundas, 
first Viscount Melville, we came to Havvthornden, the 
home of Drummond. Here Ben Johnson, who 
traveled from London on foot, to visit his fellow poet 
resided with him for several weeks. It is one of the 
most picturesque places I saw while in Scotland. 

Next we visited Roslin Chapel, and the ruins of 
Roslin Castle. The latter stands on a peninsular 
rock, overhanging the glen of the Esk, and separated 
from the adjacent ground by a deep cut in the solid 
rock, across which is a high bridge. This castle, long 



AT DALKEITH. 375 

the abode of the St. C lairs, Earls of Caithness and 
Orkney, was burned by the Earl of Hertford, in 1544. 

Roslin Chapel,, founded in 1446, by William St. 
Clair, Lord of Roslin, to use another's description, 
" contains the solidity of the Norrnan with the minut- 
est decorations of the latest species of the Tudor age." 
One of its chief ornaments is the "Prentice's Pillar," 
an exquisite piece of workmanship. " It is said that 
the master builder of the chapel, being unable to 
execute the design of this pillar from the plans in his 
possession, proceeded to Rome, that he might see a 
column of a similar description which had been exe- 
cuted in that city. During his absence his apprentice 
proceeded with the execution of the design, and, upon 
the master's return he found this finely ornamented 
column completed. Stung with envy at this proof of 
the superior skill of his apprentice, he struck him a 
blow with his mallet, and killed him on the 
spot." 

Returning, we passed Dalhousie Castle, a structure 
of great antiquity, but somewhat modernized, situated 
in the midst of romantic and beautiful scenery ; and 
Newbattle Abbey, a mansion that stands on the 
spot formerly occupied by the Abbey of Newbattle, 
founded by David I. for a community of Cistetian 
monks. 

We arrived back at Dalkeith in time for dinner. 



376 benedict's wanderings. 

not an incident having occurred to mar the pleasures 
of the day, if I except the occasional displacement of 
the widow in my arms ; and even that I should have 
regarded as a pleasure — out of mere politeness, of 
course — if it had not occasioned her so much embar- 
rassment. 

Hoping to find Bachelor at Dalkeith, I was dis- 
appointed. I had written to him to come, but he had 
paid no heed to my request. Indeed, it was three 
days before I heard from him, and then I received a 
package of letters. 

In the meantime, I had done little except enjoy the 
sweet society of the widow — a vivacious, intelligent, 
cultivated woman. But I scrupulously, conscienti- 
ously, religiously avoided anything like tenderness. 

I opened first a note from Bachelor, anxions to as- 
certain why he had not come to Dalkeith. It in- 
formed me that Mortimer had been attacked with 
rheumatism and detained two days at Inverary, and 
that now there was not time, as the Sidonia, in which 
we were to have passage, would sail on the day after 
the morrow. 

Having read this letter, I handed it open to the 
widow, who glanced at the contents, blushed and 
then turned pale, and finally settled into a reverie. 

" I wish you could bear us company ?" I remarked, 
presently. " It would afford us the highest pleasure.' 1 



AT DALKEITH. 377 

I was still in hopes of bringing her and Bachelor 
together. 

" My brother has often wished to visit Italy," she 
said, " and this would be a favorable opportunity ; 
but I fear he can not arrange his business on so short 
a notice." 

" Have him try." I said no more, for I saw that 
the matter was settled — they would go. Mr. Frazer 
was a dealer in the grain market, and his business 
would not suffer from a short interruption. Of course 
Mrs. Maxwell would defray all expenses. 

The next letter was from my wife. It would have 
been the first, had I supposed one possible from her 
at Dalkeith. In the joy of the moment, I handed it also 
to the widow, who perused it carefully, growing grad- 
ually paler as she proceeded, until at the foot of the 
third page she fell from the chair she occupied to 
the floor in a fit of syncope. Mrs. Frazer, who was 
in the room, called for assistance, and ran herself for 
a glass of water and a smelling-bottle, while I lifted 
the sufferer to a sofa. 

Withdrawing from the apartment, I resumed the 
perusal of my letters, several of which were from 
friends at home. Another was from Harry Musgrave, 
who, if he did not accompany me on the passage to 
Italy, as he hoped, would meet me at Naples, or leave 
a letter for me there at the office of the American 



378 benedict's wanderings. 

Consul. Another still was from Tom Tackle, who 
informed me that he was in the Glasgow prison, 
charged with assault and battery on a respectable 
merchant, who had been beaten badly in the B roomie- 
law, in mistake for the first officer of the Columbia. 

Mrs. Maxwell was not at the lunch table ; the first 
time during my brief stay at Dalkeith. But she 
made her appearance when I was about to take my 
departure ; still enchantingly beautiful, but pale and 
sad, and evidently disappointed. 

" If you are ever again in Scotland," said she, with 
charming sincerity, " come and see us ; and if I re- 
turn to live in Brooklyn, I shall be glad to see you 
there. But we must part for the present, as my 
brother can not possibly leave his business. Besides, 
I should not like to meet your friend again. I might 
excuse him for passing himself as a married man, but 
never for having deceived me into the belief that you 
were unmarried." 







CHAPTER XXV. 



FAREWELL TO SCOTIA. 



S^felHERE was a note for me at the Royal, from 

Tfl Ik? 

mill Bachelor, who, uncertain of the time of my 



o,' 



arrival, had gone with Mortimer to Leith, in- 
tending to return by railway. As Leith was the port 
of the capital, the oldest and for many years the only 
port in Scotland, I thought it worthy of a visit. In 
its early history it had been the scene of many mili- 
tary operations, and had been repeatedly burned, and 
its shipping carried off or destroyed. Yet it contains 
few antiquities of interest, the most noticeable being 
the churches, North and South, founded near the 
close of the fifteenth century. 

At Leith I found Mortimer, who had some business 
there ; Bachelor had gone on to Newhaven. As there 
was time sufficient, we continued on to the latter 
place, a small fishing village about a mile farther up 
the Frith of Forth. The inhabitants of this village 
are a hardy race, who rarely intermarry with any other 
class. Nearly all the males are fishermen, and nearly 



380 



benedict's wanderings. 




all the women venders of fish in the markets and 
streets of Edinburgh. 

On the way, Mortimer related to me his adventures 

after our sepa- 
ration at Bal- 
lachulish. His 
a ttackof rheu- 
matism was 
slight, and his 
delay but the 
fraction of two 
days, in all, 
fishwives of neayhaven. about twenty 

hours. He had joined Bachelor the day I left, and 
they had been two full days in Edinburgh. 

At first I was disposed to be a little vexed, as they 
might have joined me at Dalkeith, a thing I particu- 
larly desired. Mortimer assured me that Bachelor 
was inflexible in his opposition, giving as a reason 
that he was a monogamist, and that there was a 
pretty widow at Dalkeith, in whose society he was 
afraid to trust either himself or his principles. 

"0," thought I, "what fools there are in that 
family of Bachelors !" 

At Trinity, theNewhaven railway station, we found 
Bachelor waiting patiently for the train from Granton 
Pier. He was surprised to see Mortimer there and 



FAREWELL TO SCOTIA. 381 

still more to see me, whom he thought at Dalkeith. 
Though inclined to upbraid him for his selfish dis- 
respect to the widow, I thought it better to avail 
myself of his confession to Mortimer, and merely ex- 
pressed regret that he had not been there to share 
my enjoyment. 

It requires the time of but a few minutes to pass 
from Newhaven to Princes Street Station. Thence 
we proceeded direct to the Castle, at the head of 
High street. It is situated on an elevated basaltic 
rock, at the extremity of the central ridge upon which 
the Old Town is built, three hundred and eighty- 
three feet above the level of the sea, and is separated 
from the city by an esplanade three hundred and 
fifty feet long by three hundred feet wide, defended 
on the north and south by a parapet. It consists of 
a series of irregular fortifications, before the invention 
of gunpowder deemed impregnable. Writers differ as 
to the origin of the fortress, and the name it bears. 
" I incline to the opinion," said Mortimer, " that it 
was a fortification of the Picts, as early at least as 
the fifth century." 

In the earlier periods of Scottish history, this fort- 
ress experienced many vicissitudes, and at different 
times was in the possession of various powers. Its 
fortifications were demolished by Bruce, rebuilt by 
Edward TIT., and since from time to time altered and 



FAREWELL TO SCOTIA. 



383 



strengthened to render it eapable of resisting the 
improvements in civilized warfare. At the present 
time it contains accommodations for two thousand 
soldiers, and its armory affords space for thirty thou- 
sand stand of arms. 

On the north side of the esplanade is a bronze 




SCOTTISH JXSICMA OF ROYALTY. 

statue to the memory of the Duke of York, son of 
George III., and uncle to Queen 'Victoria. After 
crossing the moat and lower guardroom, we came to 
the prison in which the Earl and Marquis of Argyle 
were kept previous to execution, and in which many 
of the followers of Prince Charles Steward were after- 
wards confined. 

A long steep stair leads to the Crown Room, in 
which are contained the ancient Regalia of Scotland, 
consisting of a crown, sceptre, sword of state, and 
several other articles of bijoutry. 

Queen Mary's Room is approached by a passage 



384 BKNEDICT*S WANfrEittNGFS. 

just beyond the Crown Eoom. It is irregular in 
form, and of very small dimensions, measuring not 
more than eight feet square, with a recess of about 
three feet at the window. In this room is an oak arm- 
chair which was there when James was born, and a 
piece of a thorn tree planted by Mary during her con- 
finement at Lochleven. 

The objects next in interest are the vaulted dun- 
geons, hewn out of the solid rock, in which Ihe French 
prisoners were confined; the great gun, Mons Meg — 
length thirteen feet, circumference seven feet six 
inches, calibre twenty inches — a relic of the thirteenth 
or fourteenth century, but the origin of which is not 
satisfactorily settled; and St. Margaret's Chapel, be- 
lieved to be eight hundred years old, but unquestion- 
ably the oldest building in the city. This was the 
private chapel of Margaret, Queen of Malcolm III., 
(daughter of Edward the Outlaw, and grand-daughter 
of Edmund Ironside), sometimes characterized as the 
patroness of Scotland. 

In the armory are preserved many weapons of war- 
fare and articles of armor of the olden time — head- 
pieces, breast-plates, shields, Lochaber axes, a com- 
plete coat of mail worn by one of the Douglasses in 
the time of Cromwell, and a dagger carried by the 
celebrated Hob Koy. 

Our time was so short that, had it not been for the 



FAREWELL TO SCOTIA. 385 

presence of Mortimer, who was familiar with the 
Castle and nearly every object within its walls, we 
should have derived but little pleasure from our visit. 
As it was, we were obliged to pass by some things 
worthy of notice and mention. 

On my return to Glasgow, I went directly to the 
prison, to see Tom Tackle, who had appealed to me 
as his only friend. He was confined in a damp cell, 
and seemed to be in a very wretched condition. But 
the charge against him was not as serious as I antici- 
pated ; he was accused of being an accomplice, and 
the evidence was only circumstantial. With the 
help of the American Consul, the accuser was induced 
to withdraw the charge, but on condition that Tom 
would leave Glasgow in the first vessel for America. 

Hoping something from the discovery of the fact 
that Bachelor was afraid to trust himself with the 
" winsome widow," I wrote a letter to Mr. Frazer on 
my return to the hotel, urging him to accompany us 
on our voyage ; or, if there was not time enough for 
him to reach the vessel at Glasgow or Greenock, to 
join us at his convenience in Italy. 

In the evening I called upon Mrs. Small and daugh- 
ter, to thank them again for their kindness, and bid 
them good-bye. Bachelor sent his regards and re- 
grets, but spent the evening with Mortimer and 
Plunkett, who had returned, at the Queen's. I was 



386 benedict's wanderings. 

expected to complete their party, but finding the so- 
ciety of the ladies agreeable, it was late before I 
arrived. 'Still, I was in time for the last bottle, on 
opening which I proposed — 

"Farewell, old Coila'x hills and dales ! " 
Her heathy moors and winding vales." 

The next morning Mortimer and Plunkett, who 
were well acquainted with Captain McCoy, accompa- 
nied us as far as Greenock, where we met Dinnie on 
his return from Campbeltown. Of the little time we 
spent there together, I can only say that it was lively 
beyond description. A toast to " the ladies," pro- 
posed by Bachelor, was followed by others, to " the 
captain's wife and daughter,'' "the ship's beauty," 
" the winsome widow," " the orthodox old lady of 
Belfast," and " the blind lady who introduced the 
conundrums," and a parting glass, suggested by 
Mortimer, to 

"Italia ! Oh Italia ! thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beauty." 



-- »3eS§| 







PART IV. 




t 



tlg> 



CHAPTER I. 



WIND AND WATER. 




ALTOGETHER, our voyage to Italy was not a 
pleasant one. We had a few fine days, but 
a we had more that were disagreeable and 
dangerous. In the afternoon of the third day, we 
encountered a gale with rain and a heavy sea. This 
weather continued for nearly four days, with increas- 
ing violence. The second day a heavy sea broke on 
board, fore and aft, and the passengers were confined 
to the cabins. The next morning there was a succes- 
sion of squalls, and to use the language of the seamen, 
we shipped a great deal of water, so that it became 
necessary to shift the cargo. Now the passengers 
were somewhat alarmed, and not without good reason 
as it seemed to me, though the captain assured us 
there was no occasion for any serious apprehension. 
This day we made but sixty miles. Toward night 
the gale began to moderate, and by the afternoon of 
the next day, had in a great measure subsided. 

The following morning, how happy* were all on 



390 benedict's wanderings. 

board! There was a slight breeze, just enough to 
clear away the clouds. The sun was as bright and 
beautiful as on a day in mid-summer. The waves 
had so far spent their strength, that most of the 
passengers began to recover their stomachs. Confi- 
dence and cheerfulness were restored, and before 
evening 

" All went merry as a marriage bell." . 

After this, for a week, we had delightful weather — 
sunshine by day, and moonlight by night. The 
evenings were particularly pleasant, and a portion of 
them — indeed, the greater portion — were spent upon 
the deck, sometimes until midnight. There were 
quite a good many passengers, mostly Italians and 
Spaniards. Such of them as had friends, spent the 
time in conversation ; and such as had none, seemed 
to enjoy themselves in solitude. The conversation 
being in the Italian and Spanish languages, with 
which Bachelor and I were then wholly unacquainted, 
we could not even play the part of intelligent listen- 
ers. Twice or thrice for an hour the count came on 
deck after sundown, but his wife, who was again the 
victim of nausea, was seldom seen during the voyage. 

Among the passengers there was not one who could 
speak English intelligibly, if I except the Count and 
Countess di Lavarello, who, as I have already said, 
spoke it with difficulty. There was a young Italian 



WIND AND WATEE. 391 

woman, who understood and spoke a few expressions 
in common use, as the ordinary salutations — good 
morning, good evening, and the like; but was unable 
to hold a conversation. These facts came to our 
knoAvledge quite by accident. 

I think it was on the third day of the gale. A 
squall turned the vessel upon her beam ends, and so 
suddenly that nearly everything was violently dis- 
placed, and some of the passengers thrown from their 
feet, their seats, and even their berths. At the 
moment, the Italian woman, whose name was Lauretta 
Leonaldi, was crossing the cabin to reach her state- 
room. The lurch of the vessel hurled her from her 
feet, and had it not been for Bachelor, who was near 
her at the moment, she must have been dashed against 
the opposite side of the cabin, and severely injured. 

With one arm around a post to keep himself from 
falling, he caught her in the other, and held her safely 
until the vessel had righted itself. It may be that he 
held her a trifle more closely than was absolutely 
necessary ; but in the excitement incident to a storm, 
what man, particularly a young man, can be expected 
to guage the character of his assistance as he might 
under other circumstances? I presume the lady took 
this view of the case, for she thanked him in tones as 
musical as the notes of a harp. She spoke in Italian, 
but perceiving that she was not understood, re- 



392 benedict's wanderings. 

peated what she had said, as well as she could, in 
English. 

It was bad English — indeed, it was very bad, judged 
by the rules of pronunciation and grammar — but it was 
good enough for Bachelor, who had not been in love, 
so far as I know, since the wedding of Miss Mary 
MacGill. But the dulcet tones of the liquid voice, 
the soft smile of the rosy lips, the fiery glance of the 
flashing eye— -in a word, he fell head and ears in love 
before I could count ten on my fingers. 

The next morning, immediately after breakfast, he 
commenced the study of the Italian language, but 
under the pretence of teaching the count English ; 
and in the evening, he employed all the words and 
phrases he had obtained of his pretended pupil, in an 
endeavor to converse with the Italian woman. This 
happened not only on that evening, but on every 
succeeding one until we reached the Gulf of Lyons. 

Deprived of the society of Bachelor, and unable to 
converse with any other of the passengers, except now 
and then a little with the count, I procured a book 
of easy lessons in the same language, from the first 
officer of the vessel, and during the day endeavored to 
acquire a little knowledge of the rudiments. The 
evenings I spent chiefly in the society of the officer 
mentioned, who was a very agreeable and entertaining 
companion. 



WIND AND WATER. 393 

One night, after most of the passengers had left the 
deck, observing that he was sad and absent,' I was 
about to follow their example, when he begged me to 
remain, as my presence, it being the anniversary of 
his wedding day, would preserve him from a fit of 
melancholy. He had related to me many incidents of 
his life, which were full of romance, and this reference 
to his marriage led to the history of that event. 

"At one time," said he, "while captain of a 
British East Indiaman, I had among my passengers 
the celebrated Lady Franklin, and a young lady, the 
daughter of a British officer. The latter, under the 
protection of the former, was on her way to Cape 
Town, to join her brother, then in the employ of the 
East India Company, both her parents being dead. 

When a young man her father had been affianced 
to the daughter of a wealthy gentleman residing on 
the Isle of Man. The wedding day had been an- 
nounced, but in consequence of the sudden death of 
he)' father, was postponed. Soon after, her relations, 
anxious to get possession of her property, by some 
unfair means procured her admission into a nunnery, 
where she was kept under close surveillance; and 
then gave out that she had voluntarily renounced the 
world, and retired to a convent. Disbelieving the 
statement, the officer made many fruitless efforts to 
discover her place of concealment. At length, giving 



394 Benedict's wanderings. 

up in despair, he applied for active duty abroad, and 
though he preferred India, accepted Gibraltar, which, 
for a time, afforded sufficient novelty. When he 
grew tired of his companions and their amusements, 
and of the city and its curiosities, he made excursions 
into the country, and employed his time in taking 
crayon sketches. 

" On one of these occasions, he paused in front of 
a nunnery, to make a sketch of the building, when 
his attention was attracted by a young woman at one 
of the upper windows. She was visible for only a 
moment, but long enough to be recognized as his own 
beloved. That night, with another officer as brave as 
himself, he scaled the walls of the nunnery, and carried 
her off by force, and at a later hour the same night, 
married her in Gibraltar. 

" The companion of Lady Franklin was the daugh- 
ter of this devoted couple. To shorten the rest of my 
story, suffice it to say that I fell in love with her, and 
my love being reciprocated, our betrothal was approved 
by Lady Franklin. In time, we were married, and 
her wealth enabled me to qiyt the sea. For a while 
we lived in ease and affluence, then fell suddenly into 
embarrassment. But I must not forget my wife's 
injunction — 

" ' Tread lightly on the ashes of the dead.' 

" Her brother, in coming into possession of his 



WIND AND WATEK. 395 

property, fell into profligate habits, and having 
1 wasted his substance in riotous living/ had resource 
to his sister, who helped him with large sums of 
money, and finally, to save him from prison, mort- 
gaged her estate. Of these facts I had no knowledge 
until the first payment fell due, with no money to 
meet it. In the meantime, he had died in America. 

" There was no alternative, so I returned to the sea. 
My next voyage will be as master of a vessel. In 
three or four years I hope to clear the estate. 

" In fifteen years this is the first time I have been 
absent from my wife and children on the anniversary 
of my wedding day." 

Toward the close of the story he cut, it short in 
several places, and finally brought it to an abrupt 
termination. Attentive to the narrative, I had not 
observed, as he had, a sudden change in the weather. 
For an hour or more the moon had been playing hide- 
and-seek among the clouds; now it had entirely dis- 
appeared, and the sky was covered with a dense black 
cloud, from zenith to horizon. 

I knew by the preparations that were immediately 
made, that a storm was anticipated. But, with all 
I had experienced, I had little conception of a storm 
at sea. In a few minutes — a very few it seemed to 
me — we were struck by a gale with such force that 
the vessel was nearly capsized. Many of the passen- 



396 benedict's wanderings. 

gers, in a sound sleep, were thrown from their berths, 
and nearly everything on board was turned topsy-turvy. 

Meanwhile, the waves began to break over the 
vessel. The first one lifted me from my feet, and left 
me sprawling on the deck. I recovered myself as 
quickly as possible, but before I could lay hold on 
anything, a second carried me toward the stern of the 
ship with irresistible force. Conscious of my con- 
dition, I clutched for the rigging, but nothing came 
within my reach. The ship and wave were moving 
in opposite directions, and I was riding on the top of 
the wave. Suddenly I was seized by the skirts of the 
coat, just as I was plunging headlong into the Gulf of 
Lyons. A moment more, and Mrs. Benedict would 
have been a widow. 

Going below, comparatively a place of safety, I 
found the passengers in great consternation, and cer- 
tainly not without reason, for the sea was heavy and 
we were shipping large quantities of water. By 
morning it became necessary to shift the cargo again, 
but even that did not save it from damage. Nearly 
all the baggage of the passengers, my own included, 
was ruined. This, however, was a secondary con- 
sideration, and not thought of until all danger was 
over. The storm lasted for nearly two days, and did 
our vessel such damage that we were obliged to seek 
safety^ in the harbor of Leghorn. 



CHAPTER II. 



DURING THE DELAY. 




T was about half-past eight o'clock in the 
morning when we anchored in the outer mole 
sJjjjjjfft of Leghorn. As the vessel would be there for 
several hours — in point of fact, it was detained fo r 
nearly thirty- three, or until five o'clock the next day 
— a boat was lowered to convey such passengers 
ashore as desired to visit the city. Of course I was 
one, and I supposed Bachelor would be another ; but 
he excused himself on the ground of indisposition. It 
is true, he had been very sick during the last storm ; 
but so had I, and of the two, I was suffering more 
from its effects. Yet I was resolved to go, as I might 
not have another opportunity. But he was inflexible 
in his decision; to keep nothing back — he has no wife 
to grow jealous at his gallantries — he preferred the 
society of the handsome Italian woman, whom he had 
not seen until a few moments before the boat was 
lowered, since the evening preceding the storm. 

To my surprise, however, among the first to enter 



398 benedict's wanderings. 

the boat was Count di Lavarello. He was going on 
shore to notify his brother at Genoa, by telegraph, 
of his arrival at Leghorn. He expressed gratification 
at having my society, and I was truly delighted with 
his, as he knew every noteworthy object in the city, 
and what was equally to the purpose, proposed to 
accompany me in my ramble. 

In one respect, Leghorn is ancient ; in another, 
modern: it is an old port, but a new city. At one 
time it was a Roman port, but I do not know of 
what importance. When it ceased to be that, it 
dwindled down into a mere fishing village. About 
the middle of the sixteenth century, Cosimo I., dis- 
covering its great capabilities for commerce, exchanged 
for it the episcopal city of Sarzana. Once in posses- 
sion of the village, he made it a free port, the first 
established in the Mediterranean; and by cutting 
canals through the marshy soil, and encouraging cul- 
tivation, he in a measure destroyed the noxious 
vapors of the locality, so that in a little while it 
became, and has ever since continued to be, a place of 
commercial consequence. 

Though a walled. city, and otherwise fortified, Leg- 
horn is not regarded, by persons skilled in the art of 
war, as a place of great security — certainly not of 
invincibility. Within a few years past it has been 
greatly enlarged by leveling the old fortifications. 



DURING THE DELAY. 399 

It is now nearly in the form of a square, surrounded 
by modern walls, with five gates, and is over two 
miles in circumference. It is neat, clean and well- 
built, and the streets are spacious, regular and well- 
paved. The number of inhabitants exceed eighty 
thousand. 

Though once a Roman port, it contains not a 
vestige of antiquity; the oldest fabric is a castle built 
by Ferdinando I. All the public and other notice- 
able edifices, are of modern construction, though 
some of them are superior structures. Among these 
are the lazarettos of San Rocco, San Jacopo, and San 
Leopoldo, all well-managed institutions, the last, as 
the count informed me, one of the most magnificent 
works of the kind in Europe. The principal places 
of worship are the Duomo, originally a parish church, 
but now a cathedral, a noble edifice designed by 
Vasari ; the Church of the Madonna, in which are 
fine pictures by Roselli and Volleranno : a synagogue, 
richly ornamented with marbles, one of the finest in 
Euroj^e, and next in size to that of Amsterdam ; two 
Greek churches, and a mosque. It contains, also, a 
bank, a theatre, a printing house, a coral manufac- 
ture, a charity-school, and other institutions for the 
purpose of instruction. 

The chief work of art is a fine marble statue of 
Ferdinando I., supported by four kneeling slaves, in 



400 benedict's wanderings. 

bronze, the work of Pietro Tacca. There are a few 
good specimens of sculpture in the cemeteries. In 
the monastery of Monte Nero, near the city, is a cel- 
ebrated picture of the Virgin, which the count assured 
me had been idolized by the people of the city for 
five hundred years. 

Among the inhabitants of Leghorn may be found 
representatives of nearly every civilized nation of the 
earth. In the High street, celebrated for its breadth 
and straightness, and the richness of its shops, may 
be heard spoken nearly every language. At the Hotel 
de Nord, the principal place of public entertainment, 
where the count and I dined that day, English, 
French and German are spoken as readily and flu- 
ently as Italian. In one of the burying grounds, 
called the Campo Inglese, are buried several distin- 
guished Englishmen, the most noted being Thomas 
Smollet, the novelist and historian. 

It was nearly three o'clock when we returned to the 
ship, yet Bachelor and the Italian woman were still 
together, engaged in conversation. Had thev been at 
it all the time we were gone, he in English, and she 
in Italian, scarcely understanding a word each other 
said, or had they been making love by signs ? A nod, 
a smile, a frown, a griramace, a wink, a kiss, a 
pressure of the hand — they have the same meaning 
in every language. 



DURING THE DELAY. 401 

Remembering their intimacy. Count di Lavarello 
said, — I give his meaning in language that will be in- 
telligent to the reader: "I fear your friend will get 
himself into difficulty," 

"No danger/' I replied. "With him it is only 
pass-time." 

" Notwithstanding," lie returned, " it may be dan- 
gerous." 

" Surely a young man may converse with a young 
woman, without falling into danger ?" I enquired. 

" But she is not young," he answered. " She is a 
wife and a mother, and she has a husband, a man as 
jealous as she is beautiful, and of the most vindictive 
disposition/' 

Availing myself of the first opportunity, I informed 
Bachelor of her true character, hoping thereby to end 
his dangerous flirtation. But 1 only added fuel to 
the fire ; though surprised, and perhaps a little dis- 
appointed, he paid no heed to my Avarning. That 
evening, and all the next day, and the next down to 
the moment our ship cast anchor in the harbor of 
Genoa, he bestowed upon her the most constant at- 
tention. It seemed to me that he was infatuated. 









CHAPTER III. 



LAID UP. 



(sfglft? LIFE on the ocean wave, is not the song 
fSKL I should sing to express my sentiments of the 
r^J»Sp> sea. A short sail, in a smooth water, with 
the land in view, and " a club of good fellows," is 
well enough once in a while, and may be enjoyed to a 
limited extent if the wine is old and the jokes new. 
But a voyage requiring the time of many days, upon 
a boundless ocean, driven by the wind, drenched by 
the waves, tossed to and fro like a shuttlecock, a vic- 
tim to nausea, though once among my " pleasures of 
hope," is not now even among my " pleasures of 
memory.'" 

The truth is, I suffered immensely on the voyage 
from Glasgow to Genoa, more than in crossing the 
Atlantic. The storm in St. George's Channel de- 
prived me of the little strength I had gained in 
Ireland and Scotland, and the greater gale in the 
Gulf of Lyons so prostrated me that I was wholly 
unfit to leave the ship at Leghorn. But in the be- 



LAID UP. 



403 



lief that I should not have another opportunity to 
see the city, I exerted myself entirely beyond my 
strength, and returned from my rambles completely 
exhausted. The next day I was unable to leave my 
berth until we reached Genoa, where I took apart- 
ments in the Hotel de la Ville. 

The telegram of Count di Lavarello had been re- 
ceived, and his brother — sometimes called " Pro- 
fessor," having held that position in the Royal Uni- 
versity of Genoa, and in other educational institutions, 
and sometimes " Doctor," as he was an excellent phy- 
sician — was at the pier, on the arrival of the ship, 
with a carriage for his conveyance. The count pre- 
sented me to the professor, 
who invited me to a seat in 
his carriage, and set me 
down at the door of the 
hotel, with a promise to 
call and prescribe for me in 
the evening. 

Bachelor helped me to 
c s£^' the carriage, and then un- 
professor di LAVARELLO. der pretence of looking af- 
ter my baggage, went back to the vessel to bestow 
such courtesies as were in his power upon the fair 
Italian woman. Suspecting his purpose, I warned 




-\" x 



404 benedict's wanderings. 

him again of his danger, by repeating the lines of 
the poet, already quoted — 

" Italia ! Oh Italia ! thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beauty." 

He smiled and went his way, but I think was not un- 
mindful of my warning. Having taken her address, 
for which he asked, and the name of the church she 
attended, which she gave him voluntarily, he bade her 
a very fervent farewell, and left her in the care of her 
friends. 

The husband of this woman was a petty officer of 
the city — I forget in what capacity ; but he had his 
sycophants, as most officers have, however humble 
their position. It was not long before he knew all 
that had transpired on board the Sidonia, between 
his wife and Bachelor. What happened to her in 
consequence, I never knew, but in the evening, shortly 
after the arrival of the Lavarellos, for the count 
accompanied the doctor, an inquiry was made at the 
door of my apartment for Bachelor. 

During the forenoon my illness had increased, and 
about two o'clock I had gone to bed, nearly distracted 
with a neuralgic pain in my head. But " a hot drink 
of something," which Bachelor proposed with all the 
gravity of a physician, and a couple of hours 1 sleep, 
benefited me in some measure, and I was consider- 
ably better, though still in bed, when the doctor arrived. 



LAID UP. 405 

The inquiry for Bachelor was made by a young 
man attached to the hotel as an interpreter. He was 
accompanied by a man in uniform, which I afterwards 
learned was the official garb of a policeman. To a 
second inquiry which I did not hear, Bachelor re- 
plied, " He is sick in bed.'' The answer was repeated 
in Italian to the officer, who, in the same language, 
inquired, " Can I see for myself? 1 ' Bachelor turned 
quickly upon him, and with a savage scowl said, 
" Do you doubt ? " The officer apologized, saying 
that his instructions were positive not to return until 
he had seen him. Thereupon he was allowed to enter 
my apartment. 

The presence of the count and professor discon- 
certed the officer a little, but Bachelor helped him 
out by remarking, " There is the doctor ; ask him." 
The officer did as directed : "Is he ill ?" " Quite 
so," replied the professor. " For how long ?" contin- 
ued the officer. " It may be a week, it may be a 
month," replied the, professor. "Shall I find him 
here at the end of a week P" 1 inquired the officer. 
" Not if he is able to be moved," replied the professor. 
" In that case, I shall take him to my hotel in the 
Piazza Ponte. You will find him there." There- 
upon the officer bowed and retired. 

The count and professor exchanged glances — that 
of the latter expressing inquiry, that of the former 



406 benedict's wanderings. 

surprise. During the voyage the count and I had 
spent a great deal of time in each other's society, 
especially after Bachelor became enamored of the 
beautiful Italian woman. The count aided me in my 
study of the Italian language, and I endeavored to 
improve him in his English. The day before our 
arrival, he said to me that, if I desired to acquire a 
knowledge of their language, I would find his brother 
a most excellent instructor. He even commended me 
to the professor, who received me with the cordiality 
of an old acquaintance, and offered to take me under 
his care, personal, professional, and linguistical. And 
now, though not twelve hours in the city, I was an 
object of special surveillance. Is it a marvel that 
they exchanged glances of inquiry and surprise ! 

I was indignant ; not at them, of course; but at 
the impertinent policeman, and a little at Bachelor 
for allowing him to set foot in my private apartment. 
"What did he want?" I inquired. " You, I pre- 
sume," replied Bachelor. " He inquired for the man 
that was intriguing with the Italian woman on board 
the ship/' For a moment I was too angry to speak; 
it was not the first, or even the second time that he 
had made me the scape-goat for his sins. But while 
considering what it was proper for me to do under the 
circumstances, the count interposed. 

Comprehending the ruse, he remarked, "It will 



LAID UP. 407 

involve your friend in trouble." " no," replied 
Bachelor. u At thtj end of a week, if I am not here, 
it will go for a mistake." The count shook his head; 
but whether to signify that such a subterfuge would 
not suffice, or that he regarded it as a cowardly means 
of escaping the inevitable consequences of his gallantry 
toward another man's wife, I was unable to deter- 
mine. Bachelor drew the latter inference, but being 
in an amiable mood, replied, "If he is not satisfied, I 
shall come back, though it be from the Baltic, and — 
what do you use here — swords or pistols ? " " Ah ! 
that depends," answered the count. "Men fight 
with either; but the assassin uses the stiletto." 
" Well," said Bachelor, " protect my friend, and 
promise on my behalf anything that may be de- 
manded." 

" That you will not make love again to the beau- 
tiful Lauretta?" I interposed. " That, first of all," 
he replied, " I never did." " You never did anything 
else during the entire voyage," I returned. " On my 
honor, 1 ' he replied, "had I known she was a wife and 
mother, I should not have — yes, I should have saved 
her from falling, but nothing more." " You took her 
address after you knew she was married? " I rejoined. 
" To punish her for her deception," he answered. 
" Bah !" I exclaimed. " You took the name of the 
church she attended? She dare not see you at her 



408 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



husband's house." " She will certainly never see me 
any place else. So Capitano Leonaldi — I think that is 
what the officer called him — can rest easy on that 
score ; but I shall come back and shoot him rather 
than that he should be disappointed." 



jcmthi^ 



m* 



CHAPTER IV. 



IMPROVEMENTS. 



i ^Pl! NDER the guidance of Professor di Lavarello, 
P^pU I made fair progress, not toward health only, 
|^|gf but in the use of the Italian tongue. The 
next day after our arrival, being able to leave my 
bed for an hour or so, I wrote to my friends at home 
and abroad, and to the American Consul at Naples, 
requesting him to forward my letters to the care 
of Professor di Lavarello. That day Bachelor went 
the round of the city, and came back with glowing- 
descriptions of its remarkable beauty. The following 
morning he sailed for Naples and Palermo, pro- 
mising to join me as soon as I was able to travel, and 
at such place as I should designate. 

But the time was not so soon as we had hoped. 
My health continued to improve, so my physician 
assured me, but it was so slowly that I almost 
despaired of recovery. That I might be more imme- 
diately under his supervision, he had me removed to 
apartments in his own house in the Piazza Ponte, and 



410 benedict's wanderings. 

placed under the care of a nurse of his own selection. 

Here he bestowed upon me the greatest possible 

attention and kindness, and I continued to improve — 

lie said rapidly, as I had barely escaped from an 

attack of typhoid fever; I thought tardily, for I was 

anxious to 

* * * " be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing," — 

but of all things it is the most difficult for me — and 

never more difficult than during my illness at Genoa 

—to 

" Learn to labor, and to wait." 

Of course, if it be necessary, I can do both; and I 
can labor more easily than I can wait ; and I did in 
this instance, for though I chafed under my confine- 
ment, I pursued the study of Italian with zeal and 
industry. I do not know that I learn a language 
more readily than some others; I presume I do not, 
though my progress was marvelous. But I doubt if 
any one ever learned more in the same time, unless he 
had a better instructor, which I think imrjossible. 
Professor di Lavarello had performed his life-labor; 
he had achieved his ambition — the highest reputa- 
tion in his profession and in the University; and now 
he lived at his ease, in the enjoyment of social and 
literary pleasures. The interest he manifested in me 
was wholly that of friendship, induced in the first 



IMPROVEMENTS. 411 

instance by the unexpected commendation of the 
count, and afterwards by a congeniality of certain 
prominent traits of character. 

After the lapse of many days spent in this wise — I 
was still too weak to leave my apartments — I began 
to grow restless, and I fear, a little peevish. For a 
time, day by day, after growing weary of study, I had 
amused myself at the window, noticing the various 
persons who dwelt in the hotel, as they went and 
came, and such as paid them visits of pastime or 
pleasure. 

Not in any city I visited on the continent do fami- 
lies live as we do in America — in separate houses ; 
but in flats, or apartments, so that many people, and 
sometimes many families, are inmates of the same 
edifice. Nor is this the only peculiarity ; in some of 
these houses — indeed, in most of them — the floors 
are classified. The hotel in the Piazza Ponte was of 
this character. It contained eight stories — the first, 
or ground floor, occupied for shops; the second, which 
is the grand floor, by noblemen and others of high 
social rank ; the third, by professors, bankers, brokers, 
and merchants ; the fourth by doctors, lawyers, 
notaries, and other professionals ; the fifth by authors, 
editors, and other men of letters ; the sixth by artists 
— painters, sculptors, photographers, and the like ; 
the seventh by artizans of many pursuits; and the 



412 benedict's wandeeings. 

uppermost by other handicraftsmen, and by women 
and girls in very poor circumstances, dependent upon 
their own exertions. Of course I do not mean to have 
it understood that this arrangement is arbitrary, or 
that it is not departed from in some instances, even 
in the Hotel Ponte; but merely that, upon certain 
floors, certain classes of citizens " most do congregate." 

For a time, as I have said, such a variety of char- 
acters afforded me sufficient amusement; that was 
while I was yet too feeble to leave my apartments. 
But as I began to get stronger, it was difficult to 
restrain me within the limits suited to my convales- 
cent condition. At length, as a means of appeasing 
my desire, and making my confinement less irksome, 
the professor brought me a little book, a historical 
romance of the seventeenth century, which he said 
was written in the purest Italian. It contained less 
than a hundred pages, and was divided into four 
parts, and each part into four chapters. 

"I propose a compromise," 1 said the professor. 
"You will translate this little book into English* 
You will work no more than four "hours each day 
three in the forenoon, and one in the afternoon. When 
you have completed the first part — four chapters, I 
shall take you to San Pallena, one of my country 
seats, where you will enjoy the fresh air and become 
invigorated." 



IMPROVEMENTS. 413 

By this proposition, to which I readily assented, 
the professor gained his purpose — he diverted my 
thoughts into a new channel. Of course I was no less 
anxious to escape from my prison-house ; but mental 
labor, however arduous, is not as deleterious in its 
effects, even to an invalid, as ordinary fretfulness. 
The labor thus commenced as a task, was afterwards 
pursued as a pleasure, and eventuated in a com- 
plete translation of " The Castle of the Three Mys- 
teries." ' 







CHAPEER V. 



INDULGENCES. 



(jfrgiffcT the end of a week I had made such progress 
pHl|| in my translation, and, what was even more to 
ifeJKjl the purpose, in my way to restored health, 
that the professor allowed me the privilege of a drive 
about the city, and honored me with his company. 
The day was pleasant — the sun as brilliant and the 
air as balmy as any I ever experienced, even in Italy. 
It was at an early hour — not at what we should call 
an early hour in the United States — but in Genoa, 
except those who labor for a livelihood, the people 
are accustomed to give the sun a little the start of 
them in the morning, though, to make up for their 
tardiness, they usually amuse themselves for hours 
after he has retired behind the western horizon. 

It is at about the distance of a mile from the shore 
that the city appears to the best advantage. It stands 
upon ground some five hundred feet above the sea, on 
a declivity of the Appenines. It is in the form of a 
crescent, and its numerous stately edifices rising one 



INDULGENCES. 415 

above another as the distance increases, resemble the 
seats of a vast ampi theatre. Viewed from almost any 
direction, it is one of the most beautiful cities in 
Italy; and from the sea, with the mountains in the 
background, it is scarcely surpassed by Naples. 

" Grenoa is a city of great antiquity? " I remarked. 

" So great," replied the professor, " that there is 
doubt as to its origin. It is generally believed to be 
more remote than that of Rome. It has been a city 
of importance for many centuries. It is mentioned by 
Livy as having been destroyed by the Carthagenians, 
and by Strabo as being a place of considerable trade 
in timber, obtained from the mountains." 

We passed through the principal streets, the Strada 
Balbi, the Strada Nuova, and the Strada Nuovissima, 
in all of which are palaces of the most superb archi- 
tecture ; and through the gate leading from the city 
to Turin, called the New Grate, which is simple and 
majestic in its construction. 

The fortifications of Grenoa are extensive and for- 
midable. Those toward the sea are cut out of the 
rocks, and have the appearance of great strength. 
There are two walls, each a vast semicircle, extending 
from the sea on one side to the sea on the other, one 
of which immediately encompasses the city, while the 
other takes the rising grounds that commands it and 
the harbor. In addition to which there are numerous 



416 Benedict's wanderings. 

detached forts, redoubts, and outworks, crowning 
hill after hill, back almost to the mountain. 

Pointing to a fragment of the old Roman walls, 
some traces of which are yet visible, Professor di 
Lavarello remarked: "The city has been frequently 
increased in size, and the walls very much enlarged. 
Formerly the streets, a very few excepted, were not 
wide enough to admit the use of carriages. Within a 
few years many of them have been widened in the 
newer portions, by the removal of old buildings, and, 
where it was possible, piazzas have been made, whereby 
the city has been very greatly improved." 

Elegant edifices, ecclesiastical, eleemosynary, and 
palatial, are numerous, and may be found in nearly 
all parts of the city. Some of the churches, and, 
indeed, some of the hospitals, rival the palaces in 
splendor. 

More than half of the churches were destroyed dur- 
ing the bombardment of the city by the French under 
Louis XIV., near the close of the seventeenth cen- 
tury. Of those that remain, the largest is the 
Cathedral of San Lorenzo, a Gothic structure of the 
eleventh century, paved and incrusted with marble. 
Some portions of the interior have been modernized, 
and ornamented with carving and gilding, paintings 
and statuary. The most noticeable of the paintings 
is a picture of the Crucifixion, by Baroccio ; and of 



INDULGENCES. 417 

the statues, those of San Stephano, San Ambrogio, and 
the four Evangelists, by Francavilla. The high altar is 
decorated by a statue of the Madonna and Child, in 
bronze, a work of the seventeenth century, by Bianchi. 

In the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, the most 
beautiful portion of this cathedral — from which 
females are excluded by a law of Pope Innocent VIII., 
except on a certain day of the year, the death of the 
saint having been compassed by a woman — are the 
mortal remains of "the prophet "of the Highest," 
kept in an iron urn, under a canopy supported by 
four columns of porphyry, with pedestals exhibiting 
prophets in bass-relief, by Giacomo della Porta. The 
Sacristy contains an emerald vase, found at Caasarea 
in 1101, said to be the dish from which Christ ate the 
Last Supper, and supposed to have been presented by 
the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon, and by him 
deposited in the Temple at Jerusalem. 

Besides the cathedral, I visited ten other churches, 
the largest of which was the Anunciata, a magnificent 
structure, rich in decorations and frescoes, containing; 
two celebrated pictures, the Last Supper, by Pro- 
caccino, and the Crucifixion, by Scotto. San Am- 
brogio, also richly decorated, contains several fine 
pictures, the most celebrated being the Assumption, 
by Guido, and the Circumcision, and St. Ignatius 
exorcising a Demoniac, by Reubens. 



418 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



The most conspicuous church in tlie general view 
of the city is Santa Maria di Carignano, which is 
finely situated on a hill. It is an elegant piece of 
architecture, in its general plan resembling St. Peter's. 
It contains a statue of San Sebastiano, and another of 
the beatified Alessandro Sauli, by Puget ; and the 
following, among other excellent pictures, St. Peter 
and St. John curing a Paralytic, by Piola; the Mar- 
tyrdom of a Saint, by Maratta; and San Francesco, 
by Guercino. From the cupola of this edifice — but 
on a subsequent occasion (I was not able on that day 
to make the ascent) — I obtained a fine view of the city. 

The oldest church in Genoa is that of San Giro, 
which was erected in the year 250, and until the year 
985, was the cathedral. It is a spacious edifice, pecu- 
liarly enriched with marbles — the high altar adorned 
with sculpture, by Puget. In one of its chapels is 
the Assumption, an excellent picture by Sarzana, and 
in another, the Adoration of the Shepherds, by 
Pomarancio. 

Over the high altar of San Stefano alle Porte, one 
of the smaller churches, is a celebrated picture, which 
was taken to Paris during the time of Napoleon, but 
brought back and replaced in its original situation — 
the Martyrdom of St. Stephen, the upper part by 
Raphael, the lower part by Romano, and when at 
Paris, the whole retouched by David. 



INDULGENCES. 



419 



The other churches I visited on that day were San 
Matteo, containing statues of the Evangelists, by 




ANCIENT GENOA. 



Montorsoli ; Santa'Maria del Castello, in which isa 
picture of San Sebastiano, by Titian ; San Francesco 
di Paolo, having pictures by Castello, Paggi, and 



420 benedict's wanderings. 

Cambiaso ; San Filippo Neri, a handsome structure, 
containing a statue of the Madonna, by Puget ; and 
the Madonnetta, a very small edifice, but rich in 
elegant paintings, the most noticeable of which is the 
Assumption of the Virgin, attributed to Raphael. 

In returning, the professor took me through some 
of the older parts of the city, that I might the better 
appreciate the modern improvements. The contrast 
was very manifest, particularly in the streets, which 
are dark, steep, narrow and crooked, and almost 
wholly inaccessible to carriages. 

It was in Genoa that Christopher Columbus was 
born in the year 1442. Fifty years afterwards, through 
the aid of Isabella of Spain, he discovered America. 
He first applied to his native city, and on being re- 
fused, to Portugal and England. But though the 
Genoese failed to appreciate his genius four centuries 
ago, they have since made amends by erecting a 
magnificent monument to his memory. 



cafi%S-532«. 



CHAPTER VI. 



FRIENDS, OLD AND NEW. 




^ERY much exhausted by the drive, I lay down 
on my return to rest, and was gradually pass- 
ing into a light sleep, when a messenger from 
the professor entered my apartment with a package 
of letters from the American Consul at Naples. Im- 
mediately I arose, with the language of the Psalmist 
in my thoughts, " I will not give sleep to mine eyes, 
or slumber to mine eye-lids," until I have perused 
every epistle. There were twenty in all, and of nearly 
every description, from the billet-doux to the official 
document. Beginning with my wife's, my invariable 
custom, I went through the package without stopping 
to make either note or comment. 

I know of no greater pleasure for a member of the 
Benedict family, when thousands of miles intervene 
between him and his " better half," than to receive 
from her an epistle full of life and love and longing 
for his return. And when to these are added assur- 
ances of the health and happiness of herself and the 



422 benedict's wanderings. 

"little ones," the cup of his joy is as nearly full as 
it can well be under the circumstances. 

Several of the letters were from friends at home — 
good and true friends, and their letters were full of 
good news and good wishes ; and some were on busi- 
ness, which I had endeavored to put from me as far 
as possible during my convalescent condition. In- 
deed, it was to avoid the toil and turmoil of business 
— as the only means of regaining my health — that I 
was induced to leave my family and friends for an 
indefinite period. The latter I threw aside, with 
scarce a glance at their contents. 

These disposed of, I came to four or five letters in 
the contents of which the reader will feel interested. 
One was from Mrs. Maxwell, " the winsome widow," 
in answer to the letter I had addressed to her brother, 
which she rightly judged was meant for herself. In- 
deed, she understood its tenor and eftect as clearly as 
if I had written her that, with proper management, 
she might captivate the Bachelor. She thanked me 
for my " attentions," and praised me for my " can- 
dor," when I might so easily have "imposed upon 
her credulity." In declining my proposition to join 
us in Italy, she said her brother's business would not 
permit of his absence at that season of the year. 
But she made no allusion whatever to Bachelor. 

The next letter was from CTNeil, that "fine ould 



FRIENDS, OLD AND NEW. 423 

Irish gintleman" of Downpatrick, with whom I still 
kept up an occasional correspondence. He wrote to 
inform me that O'Keeffe would spend the winter in 
the city of Catania. He thought that, if I were in 
Sicily, it might afford me pleasure to meet 'the 
colleen bawii," " and even," to use his own language, 
" her old uncle, who, whatever his faults, and doubt- 
less he is not without some, is truly an expert in 
astronomical observations." 

I could not blame O'Neil for wishing to keep the 
place of concealment from Musgrave, for O'Keeffe had 
exacted of him a promise to that effect. But I had 
much rather he had not informed me of the fact, for I 
could scarcely resist the temptation to impart it, 
especially as Musgrave had been baffled in his efforts 
to make the discovery. • , 

I learned this fact from his letter — the next 
perused. It was written from Naples. In the Museo 
Internazional, he had met Terrence O'Reilly, who 
informed him that on the next day he was going to 
Rome. No allusion was made to 0" Keeffe and the 
" colleen Dawn," but he felt sure that O'Reilly was 
going to meet them, and resolved to keep him under 
watch. But that night, though at what hour he was 
unable to ascertain, O'Reilly had left the hotel se- 
cretly, and he was more than ever at a loss what to 
do, believing that he had been intentionally deceived. 



424 benedict's wanderings. 

Of course, I could not betray the confidence of 
O'Neil, but I resolved in my own mind that, if there 
was any other way, Harry Musgrave should be in- 
formed. But this was a passing thought, as I put 
down his letter and took up another — one that I 
should have opened sooner had it. not escaped my 
observation. 

It was a dainty little missive, like the one I had 
received at Glasgow from " the ship's beauty," in- 
viting me to Inverness. I looked at the superscription 
— it was different ; then at the seal — it was a mono- 
gram — NMK. "The colleen bawn ! " I exclaimed. 
But was the note like the one from Mary MacGill, 
an invitation to her wedding ? 

I opened it quickly, but not without misgivings — 
indeed, my heart trembled for poor Harry ; but, hap- 
pily, without occasion, for it was the harbinger of 
hope. The contents of the note were brief, but con- 
tained the important fact which O'Neil had commu- 
nicated, that O'Keeife would spend the winter at 
Catania. 

As I perused my letters, one after another, I threw 
them aside without stopping to refold them ; and 
when I had finished, my table, and, indeed, the floor 
all around me, were literally covered with open let- 
ters, in the utmost confusion. At that moment, 
Professor di Lavarello entered my apartment, accom- 



FRIENDS, OLD AND NEW. 425 

panied by a young man, and seeing me in the midst 
of so many epistles, remarked, facetiously, that he 
now saw undoubted evidence of what he had all the 
while surmised, that I was really a man of letters. 

The young man he introduced as Carlo Peccaco, 
an artist, with whom he wished me to become ac- 
quainted. " To-morrow," he remarked, " I shall be 
obliged to visit Nice on business, and may be detained 
for two or three days. I have asked Carlo to show 
you through the principal palaces of the city, and 
point out the objects most deserving of observation. 
He will perform the latter duty much better than I, 
being an adept in criticism, as I hope ere long he will 
be in execution." 

Though anxious to visit some of the grand palaces 
I had observed during our drive, I was more desirous 
of bearing the professor company to the city of Nice. 
The palaces might be seen on another day, but his 
society, a rare enjoyment at any time, could not be 
had at pleasure. It was too good an opportunity to 
be lost, and though he objected at first on the score 
of my health, he afterwards consented upon condition 
that I was strong enough on the following morning. 

That evening was spent with the professor in his 
gorgeous apartments, where I again met Carlo 
Peccaco, and, for the first time, his sisters. Of these 
there were four — Lotta, Assunta, Annetta and Ame- 



426 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



lia, all younger than their brother, who was but 
three-and- twenty. They resided with their widowed 
mother in the uppermost story of the hotel, and with 
their own hands earned their livelihood. 

In the life time of their father, Professor di Lav- 
arello had been his friend, and after his death was 
the best friend of his widow and children. The 
young man he aided in the acquirement of his pro- 
fession, and to the sisters he gave gratuitous instruc- 
tion in music, and doubtless other assistance, for he 
was liberal though he made no display of his charity. 






CHAPTER VII. 



ESPIONAGE. 



^jjflf 'ATE as it was that night before the professor 






would allow Carlo and myself to retire, — the 
i2|^3j£ girls had withdrawn about nine o'clock, after 
having entertained us with some very excellent music, 
— I sat up to write a letter to my wife, and another 
to Harry Musgrave. From the former I concealed 
nothing, save the unpromising condition of my health; 
and from the latter nothing, except the facts I had 
learned through O'Neil. Nora's letter I enclosed, 
marked " private and confidential." These letters I 
posted the next morning before the arrival of the 
diligence. 

Just as we were about to start, a servant brought 
the professor his mail bag, which contained half a 
dozen letters, among which was one for me from 
Bachelor. He had written to inquire "the condition 
of my health," and when I should " be ready to join 
him for an excursion into Germany" ; also, to in- 
quire if I " had been assassinated by Capitaiio 



428 benedict's wanderings. 

Leonaldi foi making love to his wife on board the 
Sidonia?" 

I had entirely forgotten the latter circumstance, at 
least I had not thought of it since the evening of our 
arrival in Genoa. More than a week had elapsed, 
and I had not again seen the police officer who that 
evening intruded himself into my apartments. But 
on reading that portion of the letter to the professor, 
lie looked a little grave at first, and then said : " The 
matter has not been forgotten by the husband. He 
believes you are the offender, and is waiting your re- 
covery." 

J can not describe my emotions, in which anger, 
surprise and vexation were mingled. But I de- 
manded, on the instant — " Am I under espionage ? ". 

"0! that is nothing," replied the professor, with 
an air of indifference. " It often happens to stran- 
gers. Leonaldi is jealous of his wife, and thinks it 
necessary to make an example of you, to deter others." 

" Of me ! " I exclaimed. " Why, I never spoke 
to the woman ! " 

" Nevertheless," replied the professor, " he thinks 
it was you, and unless your friend comes back, will 
make you answerable for his conduct." 

The affair was beginning to assume a serious aspect, 
such as I had really never contemplated ; and I 
questioned in my own mind what, under all the 



ESPIONAGE. 429 

circumstances, was my proper — my paramount duty? 
Ought I to recall Bachelor, or take up his quarrel? 
Ought I to play Damon to his Pythias — I a Benedict, 
and he a Bachelor? I can do a great deal for my 
friend, but is it my duty to defend his gallantries, 
real or suspected? Finally, hoping there might be an 
easier solution of the difficulty, I inquired: "Is the 
matter susceptible of an explanation? " 

"I fear not," replied the professor. "Several of 
Leonaldi's friends were on board the vessel, and 
although my brother assures me it was one of the 
most innocent of flirtations, it has assumed the form 
of scandal. In our country there is but one thing 
that will remove a stain from the character — blood ! 
But we shall have time enough to think over the 
matter on our way to Nice. For the present Leon- 
aldi is satisfied — I have made myself personally re- 
sponsible for your return." 

Blood ! Well, to say truth, I never thought the 
sound of that word would send a shiver through my 
veins. Among Americans, courage is a common 
quality, and I presume I have my full share ; but I 
had never contemplated a duel and its fearful con- 
sequences. It is easy to condemn a practice of this 
character, and stigmatize it as a crime ; but it is not 
so easy to refuse a challenge, in a country where a 
refusal is regarded as cowardice. 



430 benedict's wanderings. 

True, it was Bachelor's affair, but if I refused to 
sustain his honor, how could I escape the charge of 
connivance at his escape? Assuredly the officer left 
the hotel the night of our arrival in Genoa, under the 
implied impression that the sick man was the offender. 

In view of sudden death, or even of its probabilities, 
a true Benedict thinks first of his wife and children. 
I thought of mine when the wave was carrying me 
over the stern of the Sidonia. I thought of them 
again when the professor said a stain upon character 
could only be removed by blood. 

Gradually, I grew meditative, and even melancholy. 
But the professor, soon as we were under way, put to 
flight my gloomy thoughts, by repeating, gaily, lines 
he had heard me quote on a former occasion : 

" As we journey through life, 

Let us live by the way ; 
The cares of to-morrow, 

Let us bury to-day !" 



CHAPTER VIII. 



NICE DAYS. 




>HE road to Nice goes out of Genoa by the 
Finale, or light-house, which stands on an iso- 
lated rock at the west side of the harbor. 
This beacon is three hundred and eighty-four feet 
high, and contains a flashing light, which revolves, 
and may be seen on a clear night thirty miles at sea. 
On another occasion, I obtained from the top of this 
tower a magnificent view of the city and harbor. 

For the distance of several miles, to where the road 
divides, one branch leading to Turin, the country is 
delightful almost beyond description. On both sides 
of the way are villas, equal in size and splendor to the 
palaces in the city. The surroundings are tasteful 
and beautiful, as well the farms as the parks. Withal, 
from every house-top and hill-side may be obtained a 
magnificent view of the Mediterranean. 

We traveled over what is known as the Corniche 
road ; said to be one of the finest coach-ways in 
Europe. It resembles, in some respects — though it 



432 benedict's wanderings. 

is neither so good nor so safe — the great obsolescent 
highway, in the United States, indifferently called 
the Cumberland Koad, and National Pike. 

At that time the journey could be accomplished in 
twenty-four hours 1 continuous travel, or it could* be 
extended over the time of two days, if preferred by 
the traveler. Out of regard for my health, the pro- 
fessor made the latter arrangement, and we spent the 
first night in Oneglia, a town of the Sardinian States, 
and the capital of a province on the Gulf of Genoa. 

Oneglia is not a town of much importance ; the 
port is small, and the population less than six thou- 
sand. It is celebrated as the birth-place of Andrea 
Doria, the distinguished Genoese admiral. It con- 
tains churches, convents and a college, all in a decay- 
ing condition. In several places may be seen the 
remains of the fortifications destroyed by the French 
in 1792. 

The only other place on our way worthy of particu- 
lar mention was Mentone, the largest town in the 
principality of Monaco, beautifully situated on the 
Mediterranean. It is noted for the purity of its 
atmosphere, and is of late years attracting attention 
as a winter residence. 

Monaco, though under the protection of Sardinia, 
is an independent principality, and the smallest in the 
world. It was founded in tne tenth century, in favor 



434 benedict's Wanderings. 

of a member of the house of Grimaldi who drove the 
Saracens from the king's dominions, and contains an 
area of fifty- three square miles, and' a population of 
less than seven thousand inhabitants. 

We arrived in Nice just in time to obtain a view of 
the Mediterranean at sunset — one of the most charm- 
ing prospects I ever enjoyed. The city is beautifully 
situated in a small plain, which it nearly covers, at 
the foot of the Maratime Alps, of which department 
it is the capital. On the south its walls are washed 
by the sea, and on the north and east it is enclosed by 
the mountains, in the form of an amphitheatre. The 
Paglion, a mountain torrent, traverses the city, and 
separates it into two parts, one ancient and the other 
modern. Overhanging the town is the citadel of 
Mont Albano, an old castle enclosed by bastioned 
walls. 

All these things were plainly visible as we entered 
the city, though it was too late to note objects of less 
prominence. The following day, however, while the 
professor was attending to business, I wandered 
about the city, from place to place, wherever I could 
hear of any thing worthy of my observation. 

Properly the city is divided into three parts — the 
Old Town, the Harbor, and the Quartier de la 
Croix ; the last being the usual residence of for- 
eigners. The old town was settled by the inhabitants 



NICE DAYS. 435 

of Marseilles, in commemoration of a victory. The 
streets are narrow and mean-looking, compared with 
those of the Quartier de la Croix, where the houses 
are built in modern styles, and painted externally in 
frescoes. 

The Quartier de la Croix — sometimes called "the 
English Quarter, owing to the preponderance of the 
English, who usually number five or six thousand — 
derived its name from a marble cross, raised in 1538, 
to commemorate the visit of Paul III., Pope of Rome, 
who came to reconcile Francis I. of France with 
Charles V. of Germany. Directly opposite the cross 
is a monument erected to commemorate the visits of 
another pope, Pius VII., in 1809 and 1814. The 
Public (garden is also in this part of the city ; and 
the Promenade Anglais, a very beautiful walk, on a 
raised terrace that serves as a defence for the town 
against the sea. Usually of an afternoon, this prom- 
enade is thronged with the fashionable people of the 
city. 

Nice was the birth-place of several celebrated men 
— among others, Vanloo, the painter ; Cassini, the 
astronomer ; Marshal Massena, in 1758 ; and Gara- 
baldi, on the fourth of July, 1807. 

There are several houses which the people point 
out with pride to strangers : one in the Rue Droite,' 
a palace in which the Emperor Lascaris, after being 



436 benedict's wanderings. 

dethroned at Constantinople in 1261, resided with his 
daughter, who married one of the Grimaldi ; another 
in the Rue de Villefranca, where Napoleon Bona- 
parte lodged in 1794 ; and another in the Quay 
Cassini, in which the Italian patriot was born — Gar- 
ibaldi. 

The principal edifices are not distinguished for any- 
peculiar architectural merit. The Cathedral is in 
the ordinary Italian style, and the other churches 
have nothing unusual in their appearance. There is 
a theatre, a hospital, a public library, mills and man- 
ufactories — all ordinary structures. 

Having completed his business by evening, the 
professor devoted the next day for my pleasure, in 
riding with me about the country. A short distance 
from the city are many places of interest, including 
some ancient ruins. In fact, the environs are very 
beautiful, east, west, and north. Altogether, it was 
one of the pleasantest days of my life. 

The next day we took the steamer for Genoa, and 
in a little more than eight hours afterwards, were 
safe at our hotel, in the Piazza Ponte. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE CORSO. 



liSli WAS not benefitted by my excursion to Nice ; 
i|i5u on the contrary, I was fatigued and debilitated. 
^t»w> ^ 0l ^ nree days after my return I was unable to 
leave my apartments. Of course I became restless ; I 
always do when confined to the house. But I em- 
ployed the time in writing letters to my friends, and 
in linguistic study and translation ; except the even- 
ings, which were spent in the apartments of Professor 
di Lavarello, in the society of himself and the brother 
and sisters Peccaco. 

Aside from the confinement, these were very plea- 
sant days ; but the days that immediately followed 
were still more pleasant, for a considerable portion of 
them were spent in the Corso — the fashionable prom- 
enade of the city, where the old and young, the 
grave and gay, and " the stranger within the gates," 
not "plain in dress, 1 ' but arrayed 

" As you were going to a feast," 
meet in the afternoons and evenings, and, to the 



438 benedict's wanderings. 

extent of their acquaintance, enjoy each other's society. 
There is almost no other place for sociability, for 
visiting is by no means customary ; in fact, it is 
almost wholly confined to very intimate friends, and 
even by them but little practiced. 

For more than a week I spent nearly all my days, 
and, indeed, many of my evenings, in the Corso ; 
sometimes alone, but more frequently with my ac- 
quaintances. I was usually alone in the mornings, 
though occasionally I had for my companion the pro- 
fessor, or a friend of his, Emilius Cerreni, a ship- 
broker, and a very agreeable gentleman. In the 
afternoons I was usually accompanied by Carlo and 
his sisters ; and our party was sometimes augmented 
by the presence of two young men, Imperiale Gio 
Bolle and Gr. Seriartto, who, it was intimated, were 
paying their addresses to two of the sisters. Later 
still, I strolled sometimes with Carlo, and at others 
with a sub-lieutenant of infantry, Buju Gruiseppe, a 
young man of remarkable intelligence. 

Keturning toward our hotel one afternoon, our party 
had become a little separated. I was walking by the 
side of Assunta, who was engaged in lively conversa- 
tion. Suddenly she stopped, and abruptly inquired : 
" Do you know that woman? " I looked first at her, 
and then in the direction indicated by her eyes. At a 
short distance, walking alone in the opposite direction, 



THE CORSO. 439 

but gazing directly at me, was the beautiful Lauretta 
Leonaldi. I had not seen her since we separated at 
the pier, on my arrival in Genoa, yet I knew her in- 
stantly. She was not a woman to be easily forgotten; 
besides, had she not already involved me in difficulty? 
But immediately, on observing that she was recog- 
nized, she withdrew her gaze, and pursued her course 
without again looking in our direction. I explained 
to Assunta that she was a fellow- voyager from Glas- 
gow, with whom Bachelor had been infatuated until 
he ascertained that she was a married woman. 

The next evening, and the next, we met her near 
the same place, and each time she looked at me in- 
tently for a moment, and then passed on without any 
recognition. It was possible that she wished to speak 
to me — perhaps to inquire something concerning my 
traveling companion, with whom she had openly 
coquetted on board the Sidonia — and was deterred by 
the presence of persons with whom she was not ac- 
quainted. Perhaps — but where was the use of con- 
jecture, when the fact could be so easily ascertained? 

It had been my custom either to return to the hotel 
in time for Carlo and his sisters, or to join them at a 
particular place on the promenade. The next day I 
did neither, but purposely remained away from the 
hotel, and avoided them at the place of rendezvous. 
But when they had gone on, after waiting for me a 



440 benedict's wanderings. 

reasonable time, I strolled down the promenade in 
the hope of again meeting the lovely Lauretta. In 
this I was not disappointed — near the place where 
we had met for three days, we met again ; but 
I was greatly disappointed in another respect — 
she passed me in the same manner as on the other 
occasions. 

Somewhat chagrined, I walked on and joined my 
customary companions. Yet, on the next afternoon, 
I pursued precisely the same course; this time with 
better success. Though she did not give me any 
formal recognition, she dropped a bit of paper, in such 
way as attracted my attention. Immediately I let 
fall my handkerchief, and in stooping to pick it up 
secured the paper. It contained only these words, in 
a neat and pretty penmanship — " I am watched. 
Be at the Madonetta to-morrow morning at ten 
o'clock. Have something of vital importance to com- 
municate." 

For several days I had been contemplating a more 
extended excursion, one that should embrace Milan at 
one extreme, and at the other Venice. But the pro- 
fessor had insisted that I was not yet strong enough 
to undertake so long a journey. 

In the morning I had said : " I wish I could set out 
to-morrow." In the evening he had replied: "I 
think you can do so with safety." 



THE CORSO. 441 

" But with greater safety the day following," I 
suggested, " as it will give me one more day for re- 
cuperation." 

" At the crisis of a fever, a day is of importance," 
he replied, " but of very little account in conval- 
escence. But why not to-morrow ?" 

I should have been surprised at an interrogatory so 
pointed, if I had not suspected that it was equally 
significant — that it implied some knowledge of the 
scene in the Corso. 

" On to-morrow," I replied, as carelessly as 1 could 
under the suspicion I entertained, "a letter from 
Bachelor may change all my plans." 

" The cars will not leave until after the morn- 
ing mail is distributed," he replied, " and I can ar- 
range to have any letters for you, delivered during 
our absence, forwarded to Venice or Florence." 

I made no immediate reply ; indeed, I did not 
know what to answer. I was uncertain whether he 
had a suspicion of what had transpired ; he had said 
nothing that would fully warrant the conclusion. I 
considered — hesitated — but finally resolved to take 
him into my confidence. 

He manifested some surprise at what I told him, 
and much more that I contemplated a visit to the 
Madonnetta. I was of the opinion, however, that he 
was not at all surprised ; that he knew the one fact, 



442 



benedict's wanderings. 



and strongly suspected the other, so easily is a man's 
curiosity excited by a woman. I was also of the opin- 
ion, that it was for these very reasons he suggested 
my departure the next morning, instead of the morn- 
ing following as I preferred ; though he put it on the 
ground of a personal appointment, made for himself 
in Milan, by a literary friend whom he held in the 
highest estimation. 

Though the matter was left in this unsettled con- 
dition, the professor took it for granted that I would 
follow his suggestion, for shortly after we separated 
for the night, he despatched a runner to engage seats 
for us in the morning train of cars. In my own mind, 
however, the point was still undetermined ; and it 
was a long time after I retired to rest, before I ha J. 
decided between duty and inclination — between Milan 
and the Madonnetta. 



**%&£&$ 



: r 3S**- 



CHAPTER X. 



AWAY FROM DANGER. 




ft T ten o'clock the next morning, the hour named 
by the lovely Lauretta for me to "be at the 
Marlonetta,'' the professor and I were crossing 
the plain of Marengo, memorable for the battle fought 
in the summer of 1800, between Napoleon and the 
Austrians, in which the latter were completely de- 
feated. No better field for the strife of armies could 
be found anywhere ; it is flat, extensive, and without 
either trees or fences. The professor pointed out to 
me the hamlet of Marengo, from which the battle 
derived its name, and the trenches in which the dead 
were buried ; but no trace was visible of the column, 
surmounted by an eagle, erected on the spot where 
Desaix fell in the moment of victory. 

At the distance of two miles farther, we entered 
Alessandria, a fortified city of Piedmont, in a sterile 
plain on the Tanaro, founded in the twelfth century. 
It is a very well-built city, and including the suburbs 
and garrison, contains over fifty thousand inhabitants. 



444 benedict's wandemngs. 

It is the see of a bishop, and has a cathedral ; also, a 
royal college, a theological seminary, a gymnasium, 
several hospitals and orphan asylums, and very ex-* 
tensive barracks. Before the destruction of the 
formidable fortifications constructed by the French 
during their domination, it was one of the strongest 
places in Europe. Only the citadel is left; a fortress 
built in 1728, of such immense proportions as to con- 
tain a parish church and extensive barracks and 
armories. The principal work of art is the statue of 
St. Joseph of Parodi, in the cathedral. The finest 
palace is that of the king, the Palazza Grhilino, built 
by Count Alfieri, the greatest, and almost the only 
distinguished tragic poet modern Italy ever produced. 
Between Alessandria and Novara, the only place of 
any importance through which we passed was Valenza, 
a town of nearly eight thousand inhabitants, enclosed 
by walls, and entered by four gates; but containing 
no specimen of art or architecture particularly worthy 
of observation. 

Novara is a larger and better town, having nearly 
twice as many inhabitants, and some excellent edi- 
fices, the best of which are the Cathedral, the Basilica 
of San Gaudenzia, and the Pominican Church. Alto- 
gether, there are over a dozen churches, the most 
noted being San Pietro al Kosario, where sentence was 
passed upon Frati Dolcino, who, with Margaret, the 



AWAY FROM DANGER. 445 

beautiful nun whom he abducted from her convent, 
was burned alive in March, 1307. There are fourteen 
convents, a hospital, a hall of commerce, a govern- 
ment bank, a theatre and two colleges. Formerly, 
the town was surrounded by fortifications, but when 
I was there they were in a dilapidated condition, and 
many of them had entirely disappeared. No vara is 
celebrated as the scene of the sanguinary action 
between the Austrians and the Piedmontese, fought 
in 1849, resulting in the defeat of the latter, and the 
abdication of their leader, Carlo Alberto. 

A short distance from Novara we passed through 
Magenta, a town of nearly six thousand inhabitants, 
near which a battle was fought in 1859, between the 
Austrian army and the allied forces of France and 
Sardinia, in which the latter were victorious. 

During the day very many objects passed under my 
observation, all of which, one after another, were 
carefully commented # upon by the professor, who 
seemed to know everything about everything. Indeed, 
he scarcely allowed me a moment to think of the 
lovely Lauretta, whom I had so ungallantly dis- 
appointed. Yet he never made the slightest allusion 
to her or to her appointment; but, on the other hand, 
spoke several times of his own engagement in Milan, 
as if it was of much importance. Nevertheless, there 
were times, in spite of the attention I endeavored to 



446 benedict's wanderings. 

bestow upon his interesting conversation, when the 
question would intrude itself on my mind — What can 
that " something of vital importance " be, which 
Lauretta Leonaldi wished " to communicate " to me 
" at the Madonetta? " 

At one time I became quite abstracted, and the 
professor, observing my inattention, ceased for a 
moment. His sudden silence put an end to my 
reverie, and, thinking it a favorable opportunity, I 
alluded to the wrath of Leonaldi. The professor 
replied: "It is better not to mar the pleasure of our 
trip by any reference to that subject. I am of the 
opinion that, if nothing happens hereafter to excite 
his jealousy, the matter will occasion you no further 
trouble. " But," he added, as a caution against the 
wiles of the lovely Lauretta," should he become en- 
raged a second time, I would not be answerable for 
the consequences." 







CHAPTER XL 



THE OLD CAPITAL. 



'{%&' S we approached the ancient city of Milan, the 
li^li, professor made it the subject of remark. " It 
'^St^l was founded nearly six hundred years before 
the Christian era, and has passed through many vicis- 
situdes. It was subjugated by Marcellus and Scipio, 
and annexed to the Roman dominions. It is men- 
tioned in Strabo as a flourishing city, and in the reign 
of Gratian ranked the sixth in the empire. In 1056 
it was the capital of a republic, and near the close of 
the fourteenth century became the capital of the 
duchy of Milan. After the battle of Pavia, it was 
held by Spain, and in 1714 was ceded to Austria. It 
was captured by the French in 1796, and again, after 
the battle of Marengo. For nine years from 1805, it 
was the capital of Italy, and then was restored to 
Austria. It is now what you behold, a grand city, 
the largest of Lombardy, and in population only 
exceeded by Naples and Rome." 

Milan is situated in a beautiful plain, fertile and 



THE OLD CAPITAL. 449 

richly cultivated, at an elevation of four hundred and 
fifty feet above the sea, between the Adda and Ticino. 
In shape, it is an irregular polygon, approaching to a 
circle. It is eight miles in circumference, and sur- 
rounded by a wall, the greater portion of which was 
built by the Spaniards in 1555. It is entered by 
eleven gates, including the Arco della Pace, a mo- 
dern, sculptured, marble arch, richly adorned with 
statues, designed by the Marquis Cagnola. This 
gate, which is seventy- three feet long, and ninety- 
eight in height to the top of the principal statue, is 
situated at the commencement of the Simplon road, in 
the rear of a large open space called the Piazza d 1 Armi, 
used for the exercise of troops, part of which has been 
converted into an amphitheatre capable of contain- 
ing thirty thousand spectators. 

Like most ancient cities, Milan is irregularly laid 
out, and the styles of architecture are various, ex- 
tending over a period of several centuries. For the 
most part, the houses are built of brick, and covered 
with tiles, but many of them have a showy exterior. 
There are a few noble thoroughfares, as the Corso di 
Porta Nuova, the Corso di Porta Romana, and the 
Corso di Porta Renza, all of which have ranges of 
very fine mansions. Some of the private palaces are 
very beautiful, particularly the Palazzo Belgioso, 



450 benedict's wanderings. 

formerly the villa of Napoleon, afterward of Eugene 
Beauharnais. 

The principal buildings are the government and 
judicial palaces, the thealres, and the churches. Of 
the palaces, those that particularly attracted my at- 
tention were the Palazza Reale, occupied by the 
viceroy ; the Palazza del Marnio, used as a custom- 
house and treasury ; the Palazza di Giustizia, for a 
criminal court ; and the Palazza de' Tribunali, for 
the ordinary courts of justice. The Delia Scala, ca- 
pable of accommodating four thousand spectators, is 
not only the largest theatre in the city, but is said to 
be the largest in the world, not excepting the San 
Carlo of Naples. I visited a few of the churches — 
San Ambrogio, founded by St. Ambrose in 387, in 
which the emperors of Germany were formerly 
crowned ; Santa Maria delle Grazie, in which is the 
celebrated Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci ; Santa 
Maria della Passione, which contains a magnificent 
mausoleum, by Andrea Fusini ; and the Cathedral. 

As a church, the Cathedral is second only to St. 
Peter's at Rome ; as a specimen of Gothic architec- 
ture, it is superior to anything in Italy. Its con- 
struction was commenced in 1387, and though it has 
been progressing ever since, it is not yet completed. 
It is built of white marble, in the form of a Latin 
cross ; is four hundred and ninety feet long, two hun- 



452 benedict's wanderings. 

dred and ninety-eight feet wide, and three hundred 
and fifty-five feet to the top of the dome, which is 
surmounted by an elegant spire in the form of an 
obelisk. More than a hundred other spires adorn the 
edifice, every one of which is crowned with a statue 
larger than life. 

In the interior, every thing is of the most imposing 
and gorgeous description. It is divided into five parts, 
by a hundred and sixty marble columns. The 
arches of the naves are supported by fifty pillars, 
eight feet in diameter and ninety feet in height. The 
floor is composed of red, blue, and white mosaics, 
tastefully disposed in figures. Groups of figures are 
sketched on the windows, and on the walls are paint- 
ings bv the most celebrated masters. It contains 
four thousand six hundred niches for statues, of 
which nearly four thousand are already occupied. 

The sculpture, carvings and spiry fret-work are 
seen to best advantage from the roof ; indeed, it is 
impossible, from any other point, to form a just idea 
of the exterior decorations. But to reach this vast 
elevation, it is necessary to mount n series of stairs, in 
all, four hundred and sixty-eight steps. I was loth 
to undertake the task, but was amply rewarded for its 
accomplishment, besides enjoying from the dome the 
widest and loveliest prospect in Italy. 

A,t one time the city of Milan was the residence of 



the old capital. 453 

Virgil. It is the birth-place of many eminent per- 
sons, including five popes, Alexander II., Urban III., 
Celestine IV., Pius IV., and Gregory XIV. Of the 
other eminent persons born here, the best known are 
Alciato, the jurist ; Cardan, the astronomer ; Bec- 
cario, the author ; Agnesi, a lady, distinguished for 
her scientific attainments; and Manzoni, the first 
Italian novelist of the present century. 

Whatever was the business of Professor di Lavar- 
ello in Milan, it did not interfere with my pleasure in 
any wise, or even deprive me of his company. On 
our arrival, I had procured a carriage, and he went 
with me to all the places I have mentioned, and to 
many others entitled to observation, though less cele- 
brated. It is true, in the evening, after our drive was 
concluded, he received many visitors, all persons of 
distinction, and some of them among the most emi- 
nent men of Italy ; but, so far as I could discover, 
they merely came to pay their respects to a man as 
famous as themselves. I was now fully convinced of 
what I suspected before we left Genoa, that the busi- 
ness engagement of the professor was merely a pre- 
tence to draw me awav from danger. 



CHAPTER XIT. 



HALF THE KINGDOM. 



^ffl JJROM the capital of Lombardy to the capital of 
g)Ji t* Venice — the two capitals of the Lombardo- 
^Wp Venetian Kingdom — we passed through sev- 
eral provinces and chief towns of the two govern- 
ments. Next to Milan is the province of Bergamo, a 
fertile, highly cultivated and populous district, the 
capital of which is a fortified city of the same name, 
containing about twenty-five thousand inhabitants. 

Bergamo is one of the most picturesque places in 
Northern Italy, and is embellished with many noble 
edifices. Among these is a handsome cathedral, which 
contains a beautiful tomb in memory of Bartolommeo 
Coleone, and some fine paintings of the Venitian 
School. There are numerous other churches and 
chapels, a dozen monasteries, nearly as many con- 
vents, a college, athenaaum, academy of fine arts, 
public library, military asylum, several theatres, and 
many charitable institutions. 

Annually, in the latter part of August and begin- 



HALF THE KINGDOM. 455 

ning of September, the city is enlivened by a cele- 
brated fair, in honor of Harlequin, who, it is claimed, 
was born in Bergamo. The distinguishing character- 
istic of this fair is the harlequinade, which embraces 
every species of drollery and mimicry. It is the 
largest fair held in the north of Italy, and the pro- 
ceeds sometimes amount to six million dollars. 

In the great square of the city is a colossal statue 
to Torquato Tasso, the poet, whose father, Bernardo 
Tasso, was born in Bergamo. This city was also the 
birth-place of Tiraboschi, a learned Jesuit, author 
of Storia della Litteratura Italiana ; of Antonio 
Sevassi, the biographer of Dante, Petrarch and 
Tasso ; and of the distinguished composers, Rubini 
and Donizetti. 

Leaving Bergamo, we passed through a rich plain 
at the foot of the Alps, to the city of Brescia, which 
contains now over forty thousand inhabitants. An- 
ciently, this city was the capital of the Cenomani, a 
people of Cisalpine Gaul, afterwards subjected to the 
Romans. In the year 412, it was conquered and par- 
tially burned by the Goths, and soon after completely 
destroyed by Atilla. At the end of forty years it 
was rebuilt, and nearly five centuries later, was de- 
clared a free city by Otho I. of Saxony. After three 
hundred years of prosperity, it fell a prey to the con- 
tending factions of the Guelfs and Ghibellines, and 



456 benedict's wanderings. 

ultimately passed under the protection of Venice, 
In 1796, it was taken by the French, and in 1815, 
was ceded to Austria. In 1849, being in revolt and 
baricaded, it was carried at the point of the bayonet, 
by the Austrians under General Haynau, in this coun- 
try known as the woman-whipper. 

In 1820, excavations were commenced in Brescia, 
and continued for six years. Many Koman antiqui- 
ties were brought to light, the most important being 
the remains of the Forum of Arrius, part of an edi- 
fice supposed to have been the Curia, and a magnifi- 
cent temple of white marble, with Corinthian columns, 
supposed to have been dedicated to Hercules in the 
year 72. After the excavations were discontinued, 
a beautiful bronze statue was discovered — the God- 
dess of Victory, regarded by connoisseurs as one of 
the most sublime specimens of Grecian art. The 
Forum of Arrius is now the Piazza del Novarino, 
and the Temple of Hercules is a public museum, in 
which is preserved a valuable collection of antiquities. 

The principal edifices are the Duomo Vecchio, 
constructed in the seventh century during the Lom- 
bard dynasty ; the Duomo Nuovo, entirely of marble, 
commenced in 1604, the dome of which is next in 
size to that of the Cathedral at Florence ; the church 
of San Afra, supposed to stand on the foundations of 
an ancient edifice consecrated to Saturn ; and the 



HALF THE KINGDOM. 457 

Palazza di Giustizia, built on the site of an ancient 
temple dedicated to Vulcan, and displaying a com- 
pound of Grecian and Gothic architecture. There 
are numerous other churches and palaces, adorned 
with famous masterpieces of Raphael, Titian, Moretto, 
and Paul Veronese. The squares, which are inany, 
are beautified with more than seventy fountains. 

My visit to Brescia was very pleasant, for the pro- 
fessor was informed with reference to every object of 
importance, particularly the antiquities, which are of 
chief interest to a stranger. 

Leaving the city, we passed through a portion of 
the old ramparts, now in a crumbling condition. The 
professor pointed out to me, with the skill of an engineer, 
wherein lay their great strength and security as a for- 
tification. But they are now entirely dismantled. 

He was still discoursing on the subject of fortifica- 
tions, when we reached Lonato, a town of nearly six 
thousand inhabitants, enclosed by a wall, and de- 
fended by a citadel. It is celebrated for the victory 
of Napoleon over the Austrians in 179G. 

As we crossed the Mincio, the professor remarked, 
" This little stream," — it is small at that point, though 
navigable for barges below Mantua — "is the line of 
separation between the governments of Lombardy and 
Venice. Behind us is half the kingdom, before us 
the other half." 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THE OTHER HALF. 



W.1; 



WAS particularly struck with the magnificence 
| of Verona, as we approached. The street 
|^f through which we entered the city, is one of 
the widest in Europe. The city is beautifully situ- 
ated on the Adige, enclosed by a series of terrated 
walls, and entered by five gates. The ancient forti- 
fications are attributed to Charlemagne and the 
Scaligers, and the double gateway, called Porta dei 
Borsari, to Grallienus. It is composed of marble, and 
each gateway is ornamented by Corinthian pilasters. 
It has been standing sixteen centuries. 

The origin of Verona is unsettled, though it is 
supposed to have been founded in the fourth century 
before the Christian era. Under the Romans, by 
whom it was subjected, it rose to great importance. 
It was adorned with numerous magnificent structures, 
of which there are still some remains, the most per- 
fect of which is the amphitheatre, which is supposed 



THE OTHER HALF. 



459 



to have been built in the reign of Trojan. This 
magnificent building, the largest of its kind except 
the Colosseum at Rome, is in better preservation than 
any other, and the only one now used for public spec- 
tacles. The interior is in good condition, but the 
outer circuit — originally containing seventy-two arches, 




AMPHITHEATRE AT VERONA. 



only four of which now remain — was very badly 
damaged by an earthquake in 1184. The building is 
oval in form, 510 feet in length, 412 in width, and, 
when perfect, 120 in height ; the arena 250 by 147. 
Forty-five rows of seats encircle the arena, capable of 
accommodating twenty-five thousand spectators. The 



460 benedict's wanderings. 

most noticeable of the other Roman remains, are 
traces of a theatre and two grand arches. 

A curious monument of the Middle Ages, are the 
tombs of the Scaligeri, the Lords of Verona — a series 
of Gothic pyramids, surmounted by an equestrian 
statue of each prince. Another tomb worthy of 
mention is that of Juliet (immortalized by Shake- 
speare), which stands in the garden of Orfanotrofio — 
as a work of art, however, of inferior merit. 

There are over forty churches, some of which are 
distinguished. San Zeno is a curious structure, of 
the seventh and twelfth centuries, and contains a 
statue. to St. Zeno, Bishop of Verona in 362. San 
Fermo, founded in 750, contains some remarkable 
monuments and two urns belonging to the Dante 
family. Santa Maria Matricolare, the cathedral, 
erected in the time of Charlemagne, is the burial 
place of Pope Lucius III., and of the poet De 
Cesuris. San Anastasia, a Gothic structure, and one 
of the most beautiful in Italy, is of great size, and 
contains many magnificent monuments. San Giorgio 
has a high altar of exquisite workmanship, and con- 
tains two very celebrated paintings, the Martyrdom 
of St. George, by Paul Veronese, and the Miracle of 
the Loaves and Fishes, by Farinati. 

Verona is the birth-place of many distinguished 
men; among others, of Catullus, a Roman poet 



the other half. 461 

before Christ : Aurelius Macer, a poet of the Angus- 
tine era ; Cornelius Nepos, a Latin historian; the 
elder Pliny, a distinguished Roman writer, who 
perished in an eruption of Vesuvius ; and the cele- 
brated artists, Bianchini and Paul Cagliari, surnamed 
the Veronese. 

Though beautifully situated on the Bacchiglione, 
my first impression of Vicenza was not favorable ; it 
is enclosed by dry moats and broken walls, and ex- 
hibits many other marks of decay. This is particu- 
larly noticeable in the palaces, some of which are 
superior in design, but much neglected «*ind only half 
inhabited. It is a very ancient city, however, and 
has passed through many vicissitudes, some of a very 
destructive character. About the year 400 it was 
sacked by Alaric, subsequently pillaged by Atilla, the 
Lombards, and Frederick II., and in 1848, bombarded 
and greatly damaged by the Austrians. Withal, it 
is one of the best built cities in Italy, the architec- 
ture, chiefly that of Palladio, being distinguished for 
its accuracy of proportion. 

The principal structure is the Teatro Olympico, the 
masterpiece of Palladio, built in imitation of the 
ancient theatres. The church San Lorenzo is a very 
handsome edifice in the Gothic style. The Rotonda 
Capra, known as Palladio's villa, once an elegant 
edifice, presents now a dreary appearance, having 



462 Benedict's WANbEfctNGS. 

been almost entirely ruined by the Austrians in 1848. 
The structures which attract most attention are the 
palaces of Palladio and Pigafetta, and the Ponte de 
San Michele, scarcely inferior to the Rialto of Venice. 

In the public cemetery is a tine monument to Pal- 
ladio, and in the church of San Lorenzo is another to 
Ferreti, the historian. This church also contains the 
tomb of Vincent Scamozzi, the most celebrated 
architect of his age, and the slab-tomb that formerly 
covered the remains of Giovanni Giorgio, the poet. 

Like most travelers, 1 was greatly disappointed in 
the appearance of Padua. Being the oldest city in 
the north of Italy, with over fifty thousand inhabi- 
tants, much is expected. But it is damp and gloomy; 
the situation is low and marshy, and the streets 
narrow and unclean. Its foundation is ascribed to 
An tenor, soon after the fall of Troy. Like most of 
the cities of the Lombardo- Venetian Kingdom, it was 
sacked by Alaric, Atilla, and the Lombards. It was 
restored to its former grandeur by Charlemagne, under 
whose successors it grew to opulence and power. 
Eventually, as did the cities of Verona and Vicenza, 
it was united to the Venetian territory. 

This city is of a triangular form, surrounded by 
walls and fosses, and has seven gates. It is not 
adorned with many handsome edifices, though there 
are a few fine specimens of architecture, chief among 



THE OTHER HALF. 463 

which is the University, built after designs by Pal- 
ladio. This institution was founded by Emperor 
Frederick II., in opposition to that of Bologna, and 
during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries contained 
students from all parts of Europe, at times to the 
number of eighteen thousand. Many distinguished 
men received their education here ; Columbus, Dante, 
Tasso, Petrarch and Evelyn among the number; and 
it was here Harvey received his degree of medicine. 

There are about one hundred churches, of which a 
few are entitled to special notice. The Duomo, now 
a hundred years completed, was two hundred years in 
progress of construction ; it contains a Madonna by 
Giotto, and a monument to the memory of Petrarch. 
San Giustina, destroyed by an earthquake in 1117, was 
rebuilt in the thirteenth century, and again in the 
sixteenth ; it is said to contain the bones of three 
thousand saints. San Antonio, in the Oriental style, 
with eight cupolas, was built in the thirteenth century; 
the exterior is not attractive, but the interior is elabor- 
ately decorated. . 

The Arena, now a castle, is supposed to have been 
originally a Roman amphitheatre, as portions of the 
Roman masonry are still visible ; it was designed and 
decorated by Giotto. The Palazza della Municipalita 
is remarkable for its very high roof, which is said to 
be the largest in the world unsupported by columns. 



464 benedict's wanderings. 

I was particularly pleased with the Prato-della- 
Valle, in which the fair is held. The interior is sur- 
rounded by a circular stream of water, the banks of 
which are decorated with numerous statues of cele- 
brated men, native and of other countries. It is the 
fashionable, indeed, the only promenade, and is much 
frequented by the citizens. 

As in the other cities through which we passed, 
Professor di Lavarello accompanied me to all the 
places worthy of notice, and in the evening strolled 
with me in the public promenade. Though he had 
once been a professor in the University of Milan, he 
seemed to be equally well known among men of edu- 
cation in Padua, several of whom we encountered in 
our walk. To all of these gentlemen, and to others 
who called upon him at the hotel after our return, he 
introduced me as his friend from America. 



c 



"^ 



CHAPTER XIV. 

QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 

iHERE was no place in Italy I so much desired 
to behold as Venice, the city of the sea, or, as 

fct was called during the centuries when it was 
the first maratine and commercial city of the world, 
the Queen of the Adriatic. It was founded in the 
year 452, after the invasion of Italy by Atilla, when 
a number of refugees sought an asylum in the islands 
of the Adriatic, and formed a confederation to oppose 
the northern barbarians. During its independence, 
the government underwent several important changes, 
or revolutions. In 1797, it was conquered by the 
French, and is now the capital of the delegation of 
its own name, and one of the capitals of the Lom- 
bardo-Venitian Kingdom. 

The city is unique, both as regards situation and 
construction ; it is built on eighty-two small islands, 
the houses having piles for a foundation. The 
channels which separate these islands are called 
canals, and are 150 in number ; and the islands are 



466 



BENEDICT S "WANDERINGS. 



connected by as many as 350 bridges. The highways 
or public passages are of two kinds, land and water. 
The former are called streets, or, more properly, lanes, 
as they are very narrow; the latter are the canals — 
the avenues. The lanes and bridges are used by the 




A CANAL AT VENICE. 

great mass of the people, who go about their business 
as in other cities ; the canals are used for gondolas, 
which take the place of omnibuses and similar con- 
veyances. 

The Canalazo, or Grand Canal, passes through the 
heart of the city, and divides it into two distinct and 
nearly equal parts. It is a series of serpentine wind- 



QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 467 

ings, varying in width from 100 to 180 feet. Along 
its whole course, on both sides, and so near the water 
that they may be entered from the gondolas, are 
buildings of various kinds, some of which are palaces 
of great magnificence. It is crossed by only one 
bridge, the. Rialto, which spans it by a single arch of 
eighty-nine feet, and is celebrated as being the hand- 
somest bridge in the world. From this bridge the 
view is truly magnificent. 

In this connection, I may mention another famous 
structure of the same character, the Ponte de'Sospiri, 
or " Bridge of Sighs," which derives its melancholy 
but appropriate name from the circumstance that 
criminals were conveyed across it to hear their sen- 
tence, and were thence led to execution. It has been 
immortalized by Lord Byron in his description of 
Venice, fourth canto of Childe Harold : 

" I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs." 

The streets are generally but four feet in width, 
though a few of them are as much as six, and two of 
them are perhaps three times the width of the latter, 
the Merceria and the Piazetta. The former of these 
•s situated near the center of the city, and is the 
principal shopping street. The latter, leading to the 
Piazza of St. Mark, crosses the Merceria at right 
angles, and extends to the sea ; and in front of it 
stands two granite obelisks, each formed out of a 



468 benedict's wanderings. 

single block, one crowned with a bronze statue of the 
winged lion of St. Mark, and the other with a like 
statue of St. Theodore. 

The squares are many in number, but of very- 
limited extent, owing to the smallness of the islands. 
The principal one — in size, regularity and beauty of 
situation — is the Piazza di San Marco, at the entrance 
of the Canalazo. It is a parallelogram, being 600 
feet in length and 300 in width. It contains some of 
the principal edifices — the old palace of the doges, the 
Cathedral of St. Mark, the Orologio,.the Campanile, 
the Mint and the libraries among the number — and 
numerous shops and arcades. It is the great center 
of concourse, the scene of masquerades and festivals, 
and with the Piazetta, constitutes the fashionable 
promenade of the city, and the state entrance from 
the sea. 

There are a great many churches, some of which 
are truly magnificent, the Basalica of St. Mark, for- 
merly the ducal chapel, being one of the grandest in 
Christendom. It was designed by architects from 
Constantinople, and is in the Byzantiue style, but 
finished in the Italian Gothic of the fifteenth century. 
It is in the form of a Grecian cross, 245 feet in length, 
200 in width, and 92 in height to the top of the 
principal dome. The decorations, external and in- 
ternal, are supported by hundreds of marble pillars, 



QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 469 

brought from Greece, chiefly Saracenic, and many of 
them covered with deeply cut Syrian inscriptions. 
The principal front is ornamented with five hundred 
columns, some of white, black and veined marble, and 
others of verd-antique, alabaster and bronze; eight of 
which, of a serpentine form, very remarkable, were 
brought by the Venitians from Constantinople, and 
are supposed to have belonged to the Temple at 
Jerusalem. It terminates in pointed arches, sur- 
mounted by numerous spires, pinacles, crosses and 
statues; and over the portal are the four celebrated 
bronze horses, believed to be the work of Lysippus, 
which originally adorned Corinth, and subsequently 
Athens, Rome, Constantinople, Venice and Paris. 

The interior is beautiful almost beyond description; 
the roofs being covered with rich mosaics, and the 
walls with precious marbles, while the columns are of 
verd-antique and porphyry, and the floors of white 
and colored marble, agate, jasper and porphyry, all 
beautifully arranged. The Pala d'Oro, a mosaic in 
gold, silver and enamel, made at Constantinople, is 
the finest specimen of Byzantine art in existence. 
The altar table in the Baptistry is formed of the 
granite slab upon which the Saviour is supposed to 
have stood when he preached to the inhabitants of 
Tyre. The Sacristy is entered by a magnificent door 
upon which Sansovino was employed for twenty years. 



470 benedict's wanderings. 

In theTreasury are many precious relics, among which 
is a piece of the dress of our Saviour. The edifice is 
further adorned with celebrated works of art, by 
Vecchio, Pisano, Jacobello, Massenge, Sansovino, and 
the brothers Zuccati. 

Of the palaces, which are also numerous, the Palazza 
Ducale is the most distinguished. It was built in 
the fourteenth century, by Doge Marino Faliero. It 
is entered by eight gates, the principal leading to the 
Cortile, around which are two stories of arcades. A 
noble flight of steps, called the Giant's Staircase, leads 
up from the Cortile to the Arcade. The arches and 
steps are exquisitely inlaid with marble, and busts ot 
Tintoretto, Lazzaro Moro, Enrico Dandolo, Marco 
Polo, and other celebrated Venitians, are placed around 
the upper colonade. At the top of these stairs the 
doges were crowned. 

Beneath the Orologio, or clock tower, is the entrance 
to the Merceria. The Campanile, or bell-tower, is 
320 feet high. The Library of St. Mark and the 
Mint are handsome edifices of Ionic and Doric archi- 
tecture. But it would be idle for me to attempt a 
description, or even a mention of all the beautiful 
structures that came under my observation. 

Altogether, Venice is a city of wondrous beauty, 
but is seen by moonlight to best advantage. To 
enjoy this exquisite pleasure I remained over an addi- 



QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 



471 



tional night, and the professor, with a resident friend 
of his, accompanied me to various points, from some 
of which the views were truly magnificent. 




VENICE BY MOONLIGHT. 



While enjoying one of these views — that from the 
Rialto, perhaps the finest in the city — I observed, 
among the people passing to and fro, the police officer 
who came into my room the night of my arrival in 
Genoa. Suspicious of his presence, I turned quickly 
to the professor, but when I looked again he had 
disappeared. 



CHAPTER XV. 



FROM THE SEA. 



m jj^AYING reached the limit of my excursion, 
M lif anct beheld the beauties of the most remarka- 

df til 

^p ble city in the world, I resumed my wander- 
ings, turning my face again in the direction of Genoa, 
where I hoped to see, or at least hear from, my ab- 
sent friend, the Bachelor. 

Across the peninsula, from Venice to Leghorn, is 
one of the pleasantest trips in Italy ; the country 
being fertile and highly cultivated, and the cities 
large and exceedingly interesting, especially Flor- 
ence, in which I spent three as delightful days as any 
I enjoyed in Italy. 

The first place in which I stopped was Ferrara, a 
celebrated city, capital of the province of the same 
name, situated in a fertile plain, not far from the 
north branch of the Po. It is encircled by a wall 
seven miles in length, and is defended by a citadel 
regularly fortified, while in the centre of the city is a 



FKOM THE SEA. 473 

castle, flanked with towers, and surrounded with wet 
ditches, formerly the residence of the doges. 

No place that I visited in Italy, presents so many 
signs of decay as Ferrara. I passed through streets 
almost wholly unused, and over pavements grown up 
with grass and weeds. Many houses were deserted 
and dilapidated, and some of the noblest palaces were 
destitute of doors and windows. The population is 
scarcely a fourth of what it was under the line of 
Este. 

Nevertheless, there are numerous traces of its 
former grandeur ; a vast cathedral and many other 
churches, in most of which are valuable works of art; 
a theatre, one of the finest in the Papal States ; a 
public gallery of paintings ; and a public library, 
containing 80,000 volumes and 900 manuscripts. 

In the library is the tomb of Ariosto ; also, his 
chair, inkstand, and some of his hand-writing. The 
library also contains the original manuscript of Tasso's 
Gerusalemme Liberata and Guarini's Pastor Fido. 

Next to these objects, those in which I felt the 
deepest interest were the Casa degli Ariosto, in which 
the poet was educated ; the Casa d' Ariosto, in which 
he lived during his later years ; the Casa Guarini, in 
which the author of the Pastor Fido resided ; and 
the cell in the hospital of Sant' Anna, in which Tasso 
was imprisoned. 



474 benedict's wanderings. 

A much larger city, and in a much higher state of 
preservation, though one of the oldest in Italy, is 
Bologna, in the state of iEmilia. It was founded by 
the Etruscans, conquered by the Romans before 
Christ, declared a free city by Charlemagne, incorpo- 
rated into the Cisalpine government by France, and 
attached finally to the Kingdom of Italy. 

It is celebrated as a center of instruction. Its uni- 
versity, founded in 1119, is the oldest on the penin- 
sula, and perhaps the oldest in the world. In 1216, 
the number of students amounted to ten thousand, 
but of late years to less than six hundred. It con- 
tains two libraries, one of 150,000 volumes, and the 
other of 80,000 volumes and 4000 manuscripts. 

The convents and churches are very numerous ; 
there being of the former thirty-five for monks and 
thirty-eight for nuns, and of the latter about seventy- 
five, or, including the chapels of the convents, a 
hundred and fifty. The Cathedral, a fine edifice of 
the seventeenth century, contains a fresco, represent- 
ing the Anunciation, the last work of Lodovico 
Caracci. San Petronio, the largest and finest in the 
city, is remarkable as containing the miridian line of 
Cassini traced on the floor, and also as being the place 
where the Pope crowned Charles V. in Italy. 

The other principal edifices are the public and pri- 
vate palaces, register, chamber of commerce, hospitals, 



FROM THE SEA. 47S 

academies, and theatres ; all of which are enriched 
with paintings and sculpture by the leading artists. 
There are two leaning towers, Asinelli, which is the 
loftiest in Italy, from the top of which (the finest 
view I ever enjoyed) may be seen, it is said, one hun- 
dred and three cities ; and Grarisenda — both erected 
in the early part of the twelfth century. 

Bologna is celebrated as the birth place of eight 
popes, one hundred cardinals, naturalists, anatomists, 
astronomers, mathematicians, and the artists Guido, 
Domenichino, Albano, Barbieri, and the three Caracci. 
It is also celebrated for its sausages. 

Between Bologna and Florence we passed through 
two fortified towns, each of about twelve thousand 
inhabitants — Pistoja and Prato. The former is fa- 
mous as being the place where pistols were invented, 
and gives name to the weapon ; and it contains a 
monument to the poet Cini, a cathedral and other 
churches, a theatre, museum, academy, public libra- 
ries, convents, and a fine old town hall. The latter 
is celebrated as the seat of Cicognini College ; and 



contains a noble square, a marble cathedral, a tower 
of six stories, hospitals, asylums, and other edifices. 




CHAPTER XVI. 



TO THE SEA. 

' F all the cities I have seen, the most beautiful 
is Florence. It is of Roman origin, though 
j3 not as ancient as some of the others I have 
mentioned. It is surrounded by an old wall, nearly 
five miles in circuit, in which there are nine gates. It 
is divided into two unequal parts, by the Arno, which, 
at that point, is one hundred and fifty yards wide, 
and crossed by two suspension and four arched bridges • 

With few exceptions, the streets are narrow and 
well paved with flagging, but without sidewalks. 
The dwellings are handsome, and the palaces are noble 
structures ; many of the latter containing valuable 
collections of books, paintings and •statuary. The 
Pitti Palace, formerly the residence of Luca Pitti, at 
present occupied by the grand duke, is one of the 
most magnificent in Italy. It contains a gallery of 
over five hundred paintings. 

There are a large number of squares and piazzas, 
which add greatly to the beauty of the city. Of 



TO THE SEA. 477 

these, the most celebrated is the Piazza del Grand uca, 
which is the center of public life and business. It is 
adorned with a marble fountain, and a bronze statue 
of Cosmo I., by Giovanni di Bologna. 

The most celebrated building in the city, is the 
Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fibre, remarkable for 
its dome, which is the largest in the world. This ed- 
fice is of stupendous proportions ; entire length, 501 
feet — of transcept, 305 ; width of nave, 129 ; height, 
338 ; and cupolo, 138 in diameter. It is grand in its 
conception and construction, and served as a model to 
Michael Angelo for St. Peter's at Rome. It was de- 
signed by Arnolfo, and completed by ISrunelleschi. 

The Church of Santa Croce, also a very large edi- 
fice, is celebrated as containing monuments to the 
memory of many of the most celebrated men in Italy ; 
among whom are Michael Angelo, Alfieri, Dante, 
Machiavelli, and Galileo. 

Adjoining the Cathedral is the Campanile, designed 
by Giotto, a quadrangular tower, 275 feet in height, 
with six bells, reached by a staircase of 413 steps. 
It is of black, white and red polished marble, and the 
most beautiful structure of its kind in Italy. 

But the pride of Florence is the Galleria Imperiale 
e Reale, in the upper story of the Uffizi, a magnifi- 
cent building, erected by command of Cosmo I., after 
a design by Vasari. In extent and variety, this gal- 



478 benedict's wanderings. 

lery is one of the finest collections of sculpture and 
paintings in the world. Among the numerous an- 
tiques in statuary, are the celebrated Venus de Medici, 
and the group of Niobe and her children ; and among 
the paintings, there are works of Raphael, Titian, 
Guido, Correggio, Guercino, and Michael Angelo. 

In one of the museums, is a white marble statue to 
Galileo, his instruments, and one of his fingers, pre- 
served in a glass case ; his manuscripts are preserved 
in the private library of the grand duke. In the Pa- 
lazza Buonaratti, the dwelling of Michael Angelo, 
are his manuscripts, sword, canes, and a portrait of 
himself. 

Of the illustrious men born in this city, the best 
known are Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Guicciardini, 
Benvenuto Celini, Leonardo da Vinci, Amerigo Ves- 
pucci, Andrea del Sarto, and Lorenzo d' Medici. 
Some include Michael Angelo and Galileo, while oth- 
ers credit the birth of the former to Chiusi, and of 
the latter to Pisa. 

The last mentioned place, capital of the province 
of Pisa, is situated in a fertile plain, on the banks of 
the Arno, six miles from the sea. It is about five 
miles in circumference, and surrounded by a wall, 
now broken and of little use as a fortification. It is 
irregularly laid out, but has the advantage of wide, 
straight streets, excellently paved. The river trav- 



480 benedict's wanderings. 

erses the city in the form of a cresent, and divides it 
into two Dearly equal parts, which are connected 
by four beautiful bridges, while on each side is a fine 
quay, used as a promenade. 

The principal attractions of this city, are the Ca- 
thedral, Baptistery, Campanile, and Campo Santo, 
all of which are within view at the same time. The 
Cathedral is in the style of architecture that prevailed 
in the eleventh century. Il is 300 feet long, 107 
wide, and 120 high. It contains three magnificent 
bronze doors, by Giovanni di Bologna, one of which 
represents the Virgin from her birth. It also con- 
tains statues by Giovanni di Pisi, and paintings by 
Andrea del Sarto and other eminent masters. 

The Baptistery is an octagon of white marble, 150 
feet in diameter, and 160 feet in height. It was fin- 
ished about the middle of the twelfth century, when 
the city was so populous, that a voluntary contribu- 
tion of one florin from each family sufficed to pay the 
expense of its erection. At that time it is said the 
population was 150,000 ; it is now less than 20,000. 

Having seen the leaning towers of Bologna — the 
Asinelli four, and the Garisenda eight feet from a 
perpendicular line — I was less surprised when I came 
to view the Campanile of Pisa, though the top over- 
hangs the base thirteen feet. It is built of white 
marble, and is adorned with 207 columns of marble 



TO TSE sea. 481 

and granite. It is 190 feet high, and is ascended by 
295 steps. Writers differ in opinion as to whether 
this tower was originally perpendicular. However 
the fact may be, it has been in this leaning position 
for over six centuries. 

The Campo Santo is an ancient burial ground, and 
the most beautiful edifice in the city. It is a vast 
rectangle, surrounded by sixty-two light and elegant 
arcades, composed of white marble. These arcades 
are built about a mound of earth, brought by Arch- 
bishop Lanfranchi from Mount Calvary in the twelfth 
century, and formerly used as a mausoleum. It con- 
tains many remarkable monuments and celebrated 
paintings. Six hundred ancient families of Pisa and 
many illustrious characters of different countries, are 
said to be interred in this cemetery. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



LEGHORN LADIES. 




HERE were a thousand things of interest in 



the cities through which I passed, worthy of 
^dj|) mention in a volume of this character, which 
I am obliged to omit for want of space. I state the 
fact that it may not be supposed they have escaped 
my notice, or have been regarded as too insignificant 
for a place in these pages. 

Arrived in Leghorn, the professor and I went first 
to the Hotel de Nord, where we dined. In this hotel 
is a table d' hote, which I usually prefer. On this 
occasion it enabled me to hear my mother tongue 
spoken on both sides of me ; and though the people 
were all strangers, I felt less like one myself than at 
any time since the desertion of Bachelor. 

One voice particularly attracted my attention. It 
sounded familiar, and yet I was unable to call it dis- 
tinctly to recollection. It was that of a woman, who 
sat on the same side of the table, a short distance 
above me, and kept up a lively conversation with her 



LEGHORN LADIES. 483 

companion, who was also a lady. I managed to catch 
a glimpse of her countenance, and though it resem- 
bled some one I had seen, I was more completely 
puzzled. 

Each time she spoke, her voice grew more and more 
familiar ; but still I was unable to associate it with 
any person, until the plates were removed and desert 
served. Taking a bunch of grapes in her hand, she 
addressed her companion the following connundrum — 
" What sort of monkeys grow on vines ?" 

I knew her then ; it was the blind lady, who had 
introduced the connundrums on board the Columbia. 
The operation of the English occulist had been suc- 
cessful, for she had recovered her sight, which was 
the reason I had failed to recognize her. 

Her companion — not the one whom she bad on the 
Columbia, but a young and pretty girl — laughed 
gaily at the connundrum, but gave it up. Said the 
blind lady, or she who had been blind — " Gra-apes 
(grapes)." 

I sent her my card, and she made room for me by 
her side, and introduced me to her companion, who 
was her neice. But that she might be certain of the 
acquaintance of one she had never seen, she closed 
her eyes while I spoke, and then said : " Yes, I re- 
member. You excelled in connundrums. The one 
you got off at the expense of your friend was capital. 



484 Benedict's wanderings. 

I have repeated it many times. By the way, where 
is your friend ?" 

Such was the beginning of a very pleasant conver- 
sation, in which our acquaintances of the Columbia 
were the principal theme. Since our separation she 
had met Mrs. Marshall at one time and Mrs. Barring- 
ton at another, and both had kept me in kind re- 
membrance. On her voyage to Italy, she had been 
accompanied by — " Who do you suppose ?" said she. 
I had not the least idea, but guessed — " The winsome 
widow." "No," said she ; " the ship's beauty." 

I was pleased to learn that William Stewart had 
extended his bridal tour to Italy ; it would afford me 
another opportunity to meet his beautiful bride. 
They were in Leghorn the day before, and were then 
in Naples, where they purposed to spend two or three 
weeks, and as many more in Sicily. 

In turn, I told Mrs. Murray — such was the name 
of the lady — all I knew concerning " the colleen 
bawn" and her rival lovers. She seemed very much 
interested, and expressed the hope that my country- 
man might carry off the prize. 

After the lapse of half an hour, Mrs. Murray was 
obliged to join some friends, with whom she and her 
niece were to spend the evening ; but she expressed 
the hope, as they would proceed to Genoa, that I 
should remain over a day and bear them company. 



LEGHORN LADIES. 485 

The professor consented, on condition that I would 
spend a portion of the time with him, at the house 
of his friend, Signor Vincent Liotto. I accepted the 
terms, and should had the gentleman mentioned been 
a stranger ; but, fortunately for me, he was an ac- 
quaintance. 

Signor Liotto, his wife and son, were among my 
fellow passengers from Glasgow to Leghorn ; and be- 
ing acquaintances of Count di Lavarello, I had 
been introduced to them on board the Sidonia. But 
as I was then ignorant of the Italian language, our 
social intercourse Avas constrained and limited. 

At the house of Signor Liotto, I met the sister of 
his wife, Signora Cesina Sanzitoto, whose husband 
had fallen in the service of Garabaldi. She was 
young to be a widow — not more than one-and-twenty; 
but time had softened her sorrow, and her spirits had 
recovered their buoyancy. In the accomplishments 
of mind and manners, she resembled her sister, Sig- 
nora Liotto, but was younger in appearance, and per- 
haps gayer in disposition. Withal, she was exceed- 
ingly pretty and attractive. 

The evening spent at the house of Signor Liotto, a 
very pleasant one, was chiefly devoted to conversa- 
tion and music, in both of which the sisters excelled. 
Before the professor and I took our leave, an excur- 
sion to the monastery of Monte Nero was arranged 



486 benedict's wanderings. 

for the next day. It was proposed by Signor Liotto, 
but I suspect that it was prompted by his pretty 
sister-in-law. 

The excursion was not only a success, but a more 
considerable affair than I anticipated. It was enjoyed 
by about twenty people, all friends of Signora San- 
zitoto. One of these was an officer of the Austrian 
army, Captain Burnside, a cousin of our General 
Burnside. He was a native of Italy, but proud of 
his distinguished relation. Perhaps it was on that 
account, but he manifested a considerable liking for 
my society, and not only wrote his address in my 
pocket-book thus : " Alessander de Burnside, Esq., 
Cavalier Capitan in Ussar Regiment, Ungar, Leg- 
horn,' ' but at parting, gave me a beautiful pencil as 
a memento. 

Returning from the excursion, we all went to the 
house of Signora Sanzitoto, where we spent the even- 
ing, much as the previous one had been spent, but 
with a greater degree of freedom, having become bet- 
ter acquainted. As the stranger of the occasion, I 
was especially favored with the attentions of Signora 
Sanzitota, who did every thing in her power to make 
it pleasant for me ; and for her kindness I shall ever 
hold her in grateful remembrance. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



AN ADVENTURE. 




THOUGH very sorry to leave my pleasant ac- 
' quaintances, I was glad to get away from Leg- 



horn. Except Messina, and I am not quite 
certain that I should make the exception, Leghorn is 
more thoroughly infested with beggars than any city 
I visited in Italy. For the opposite reason, Genoa is 
the pleasantest place for the sojourn of a traveller. 
In the streets of this city, there are no beggars ; they 
are supported by a tax upon the citizens, in an asy- 
lum capable of receiving 22,000 inmates. 

The professor was glad to get back to his house in 
the Piazza Ponte, for he preferred quietude. I, too, 
was glad, for I needed rest, not yet having recovered 
sufficient strength for an excursion of such extent. 
As to resuming rny wanderings, the professor per- 
emptorily forbid it for a fortnight, though he allowed 
me the honor that is sometimes accorded to distin- 
guished strangers — the freedom of the city. 

On the table of my apartment, I found a pyramid 



488 benedict's wanderings. 

of letters, which were entitled to iny first attention. 
In the contents of two or three of them, the reader 
will be interested. The first I read was from my 
wife — hers always was the first ; but it contained in- 
formation that distressed me — my business was all 
going wrong in my absence. I had entrusted it to 
what I supposed a safe and skillful management ; but 
it seldom happens that a lawyer's business, however 
well conducted by another, gives entire satisfaction to 
his clients. 

There was a letter from Bachelor, nearly a month 
old, appointing to meet me at Trieste, whence he pro- 
posed to visit Vienna, Berlin, Hamburg, and other 
northern cities ; and another, of more recent date, 
informing me that he was on his return, and should 
endeavor to be in Genoa in a fortnight from that 
time, when, if I had not despatched him before, he 
should take pleasure in shooting Capitano Leonaldi. 

There was also a letter from Musgrave, who wrote 
to thank me for the information which had enabled 
him to find the " colleen bawn." But though it had 
assured his happiness in a measure, it had also in- 
volved him in difficulty. " I wish you were here to 
help me," he wrote. "As it is, I am one against 
three ; for I have to inform yuii that Father McQuin- 
lan joined our party a few days ago, and is exerting 
himself for the honor of Londonderry. Thus far, 



AN ADVENTURE. 489 

however, I have held my own, thanks to ' the fine 
oulcl Irish gintleman' of Downpatrick, by whose ad- 
vice I made sure to kiss the true Blarney Stone." 

Among a number of other letters, of no consequence 
to the reader, was one in a perfumed envelope, with- 
out postmark, addressed " To the American Gentle- 
man, care of Professor di Lavarello, No. 14 Piazza 
Ponte." Before I broke the seal, I felt certain that 
it was from Lauretta Leonaldi ; perhaps I discerned 
a resemblance in the handwriting. There was no sig- 
nature, but the contents rendered any unnecessary : 
" On your return to Genoa, of which I shall be ad- 
vised, go to the Madonnetta, in the morning at ten, 
and be circumspect."' 

'■ Men at some time are masters of their fates ;" 
but they are not at some other time, which is when 
they are under the spell of the enchantress — " woman, 
lovely woman !" With this letter in my hand, I was 
no longer master of my fate ; come what would, I 
resolved to visit the Madonnetta. To avoid any sus- 
picion of my purpose, however, I spent the afternoon 
in the Corso, with Carlo and his sisters, and the even- 
ing with Professor di Lavarello, in his apartments. 

The next morning, a little before ten o'clock, I 
stood in front of the Madonnetta, a small church, but 
celebrated as containing some excellent paintings. I 
looked about me, but saw no one, except a letter- 



490 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



writer, a very important person in all parts of Italy, 
who was inditing an epistle for a young girl, to her 
absent lover. I crossed the street and walked close 

to them, but there was 
nothing suspicious in their 
appearance. It was an 
incident of very frequent 
occurrence, which, at any 
other time, I should not 
have noticed. 

Entering the church, 
empty at the time, I em- 
braced the opportunity to 
enjoy the pictures, one of 
which, the Assumption of 
the Virgin, is attributed to Raphael. It hangs in the 
sacristy, which, finding the door open, I entered with- 
out ceremony, and was soon lost in admiration. How 
long I remained in this condition I know not, but I 
was recalled to consciousness by the entrance of a 
monk, who passed through the room, and disappeared 
through a small door on the opposite side. 

Returning to the nave, I glanced around, but saw 
no one. I waited a few minutes, but no one came. 
Then I walked up and down the aisle, leisurely at 
first, but after a time anxiously, for on looking at my 
watch, I found it was nearly noon. " Perhaps the 




THE LETTER WHITER. 



AN ADVENTURE. 



491 



lovely Lauretta is not yet aware of my return ? ' ' 
Consoling myself with this thought, I left the church, 
resolved to come again on the morrow. The rest of 
the day was spent as the day before had been, with 
Carlo and his pretty sisters and the professor. 

The next morning I repaired again to the church 
of the Madonnetta, leaving the piazza at an early 
hour, in an opposite direction. To make certain that 
I was not followed, I passed out at one of the gates, 
and entered the suburbs. Keeping the wall in sight, 
I walked on slowly for nearly an hour, passing two or 
three entrances. Not far from the one nearest the 

church,in front of a cottage, 
I saw a monk holding a girl 
by the hand,and apparently 
engaged in giving her advice 
My course led me near 
to where they were stand- 
ing, and as I passed I 
glanced at them. Some- 
thing in the look of the 
priest arrested my atten- 
tion. I looked again, but 
he was intent upon his duty, with nothing unusual 
in his appearance. 

Passing through the gate, I took the shortest course 
to the Madonnetta, which I entered without pausing 




MONK AND MAID. 



492 Benedict's wanderings. 

to look behind me, for as I turned into the street, I 
saw a woman ascending the steps of the church. 
When I reached the main aisle, she was kneeling in 
front of the altar ; observing which 1 paused, that I 
might not disturb her devotions. But my footstep 
attracting her attention, she immediately arose and 
walked toward me. She was veiled, and I was uncer- 
tain whether it was Signora Leonaldi, until she whis- 
pered in my ear, as she glided swiftly by me — " We 
are watched ! " 

I turned about suddenly, and looked after her re- 
treating form. She passed quickly to the door, and 
at the same time a monk walked slowly down a side 
aisle. In a moment, she had disappeared, and then I 
looked at the priest, whose head was bent toward the 
ground. Though his face was partially concealed, I 
recognized him at once as the one I had seen near the 
gate in conversation with the girl ; and before he had 
passed from view, as the one who had, the day before, 
passed through the sacristy, while I was contempla- 
ting the Assumption of the Virgin. 



£§§**- 



CHAPTER XIX. 



A DINNER PARTY, 



^J^||URINGr the remainder of my stay in Genoa, 
15 Hi P r °f eS80r di Lavarello did everything in his 
iltl^lfo power to make it pleasant for me. Walks and 
drives, calls and visits, composed an interesting por- 
tion of the enjoyment. Among the pleasures of that 
time was a visit to the magnificent villa of the Mar- 
quis Pallavicini, whose fabulous wealth is there dis- 
played in the utmost profusion. A partial description 
of this place is contained in the introduction to the 
translation of The Castle of the Three Mysteries, 
from which I extract the following : 

" It would be almost impossible to adequately describe the 
wonders aud beauties which every where greet the eve. In the 
park are immense laurel trees and Indian pines ; and the choices! 
tropical trees, plants and flowers are seen in all directions. Beau- 
tiful summer houses, temples, cascades and obelisks are taste- 
fully arranged throughout the grounds. By an ingenious con- 
trivance of secret springs, jets of water can be thrown upon the 
head of the unsuspecting visitor, who, in endeavoring to escape 
from one, is met full in the face by another. If he but touch a 
flower or shrub, or take a seat in an inviting chair, he is liable to 
become the victim of a miniature deluge, which, on the whole, 
tends to create a pleasant excitement and much real jolity." 



494 benedict's wanderings. 

Another of these pleasures was a dinner party, 
given by Signor Cavalieri, a brother-in-law of the pro- 
fessor, at his palace in the village of Albaro, a 
short distance from the city. Signor Cavallo was 
a lawyer, and practiced at the bar in the courts of 
Genoa, but like many other gentlemen of wealth, 
lived a short distance in the country. His palace 
stood near the house occupied by Dickens, during his 
stay in Italy. 

Most of the guests went out in the afternoon, in 
carriages J^the count having one to himself and fam- 
ily, and the professor and I one to ourselves. We 
reached the country through the oldest gate in the 
city ; " supposed to have been erected," said the pro- 
fessor, " in the latter part of the tenth century." The 
road to the village was excellent, and the country 
beautiful ; the farms neat and well-cultivated, and 
the houses both showy and substantial ; and the pal- 
aces, here and there in the most eligible situations, 
spacious and superb. 

The dinner was a grand affair — a most ceremonious 
entertainment. The number and variety of the dishes 
were marvelous, and every flavor delicious. The 
guests were numerous — all people of education ; the 
gentlemen agreeable and entertaining, and the ladies 
beautiful and fascinating. 

There were several lawyers present, from whom, as 



A DINNER PARTY. 



495 



a member of the fraternity, I received some special 
attention. Being an American, I was not' neglected 




OI ]> GATE OF CENOA. 



by the ladies, who — in every country I' have visited, 
as well as my own — if not partial, are at least not in- 
different, to foreigners. 



49t> benedict's wanderings. 

The lady from whom I received most attention, was 
Signora Angelina Rossetti, wife of a Genoese gentle- 
man much respected for his wealth and position. . She 
was greatly admired for her excellencies of mind and 
manner, and particularly for her conversational ac- 
quirements. Though perhaps thirty years of age, 
she was very young compared with her husband, who 
was almost an octogenarian. The discrepancy was 
too great, and was the cause of some unhappiness, to 
which T unconsciously contributed. 

It happened that Senora Rossetti and myself, when 
introduced, were favorably situated for conversation, 
in which, as I have already said, she excelled. At 
first I was charmed with her grace of manner and 
elegance of expression ; but having succeeded in 
making herself agreeable, she asked me about my own 
country, in which she professed to be greatly inter- 
ested. She listened as well as she talked, which is 
great praise to any one ; and led on by her inquiries, 
I let my tongue run for her gratification, without ob- 
serving that her antique spouse was becoming furiously 
angry. 

When I did observe it, however, I regret to say 
that I deliberately continued. I should have re- 
frained had there been any thing in our behavior to 
justify his anger in the first instance ; but I was pro- 
voked that he should allow his jealousy to be observed. 



A DINNER PARTY. 497 

But I soon discovered that it was not safe to coquette 
with even an old man's wife. Signor Kossetti sent a 
friend to me, to inquire what weapons I preferred, and 
at what time and place it would suit my convenience 
to leave this world. 

I went immediately in quest of Professor di Lav- 
arello, through whom I offered what I conceived to 
be a suitable apology — '"my attentions were wholly 
the result of my admiration of his wife's superior ac- 
quirements ; and though I should deprive myself of 
a very great pleasure, if it would gratify Signor Ros- 
setti, I should never again notice his wife by look or 
act ion." The effect was much better than I antici- 
pated ; the incensed husband not only withdrew his 
challenge, but apologized for his anger. I was care- 
ful however, during the rest of the evening, not to 
excite his jealousy again, by any marked attention to 
his wife. I met her on the Corso many times after- 
wards, and our casual acquaintance of that evening, 
ripened into a close and pleasant friendship. 

It was late when we left the village, and after mid- 
night when we reached the city. Being moonlight 
and delightful weather, the count and professor, Sig- 
nor Pilliona and son, and myself, returned on foot, for 
amusement. Signor Pilliona was a Nicean merchant, 
who accompanied the professor and myself on our re- 



498 



benedict's wanderings. 



turn from Nice. He and his son were both excellent 
gentlemen, in whose society I spent many agreeable 
hours during my stay in Genoa. 

On the way back, many things excited our atten- 
tion but in particular the collection of cigar stumps 
at and after midnight. As we entered the city, stump 
hunters might be seen in nearly every thoroughfare, 

each with a lantern, which 
he held close to the ground, 
to avoid unnecessary stoop- 
ing. The quantity of 
stumps gathered in this 
maimer, during the course 
of a sennight, is enormous. 
I believe they are used as 
gS§| rilling for other cigars. 

Nearer the Piazza Ponte, 
we met a monk — we had 
cigar-stump hunter. met a number before, and 
passed them without notice — but this was the one I 
bad seen at the Madonnetta. I was a little in the 
rear of the company, and moved by a sudden impulse, 
or it may have been a suspicion, I stopped directly in 
front of him, and looked him full in the face. He 
stopped as suddenly, and placed himself in a posture 
of defence, drawing from underneath his gown a glit- 
tering stilletto ; not, I think, with a view of inflict- 




A DINNER PARTY. 499 

ing injury upon me, but, if it became necessary, for 
his own personal protection. 

" Villain !" I exclaimed, snatching a pistol from 
my breast-pocket, and raising it in a menacing man- 
ner. 

The exclamation arrested my companions, who 
turned about just as the monk darted aside into the 
shadow of the houses. 

" Good God ! " exclaimed the merchant, seeing 
me with a pistol, and the monk running as if for his 
life. 

To the professor I remarked quietly, as I replaced 
the weapon," I was merely recognizing a police officer 
in disguise." 

Perceiving that my explanation was understood by 
the professor, the merchant made no further observa- 
tion. He comprehended that it was a mystery, and 
was satisfied that it had not resulted in a tragedy. 




v>|^v : 



CHAPTER XX. 



ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 




|EFORE our excursion through the Lombardo- 
Venetian Kingdom, Professor di Lavarello had 
promised me some fine shooting on his farm 
near Recco, about thirty miles south of Genoa. As 
we were about to separate that night, he proposed 
that we should begin our sport the following day, 
as my sojourn in that part of Italy was then limited. 
Though his object was to draw me away from danger, 
I was glad of the proposition for another reason — I 
desired a change of scenery and situation, in the hope 
that it might benefit my health. From Sorri, where 
we left the rail way, to San Pallena, the professor's 
country seat, was about one mile by the carriage way, 
and perhaps a furlong less by the foot-path. As no- 
tice of our coming had not been received, there was 
no carriage for us on our arrival, so we proceeded on 
foot by the path, reaching the house just in time for 
lunch. 

San Pallena is beautifully situated on the mountain 



ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 501 

side, and commands a magnificent view of the sea 
and intermediate country. The house is a palace, 
containing every desirable luxury. The library was 
large, and composed of choice collections. The paint- 
ings and statuary were gems of art. The farm was 
productive, and on it grew nearly every kind of fruit 
and nut, fit for food. 

The professor hunted with me the first day, and 
after that employed his time in looking to the in- 
terests of the farm. I am not an expert in sports- 
manship, but the game was abundant, and I had the 
good fortune to bring in each day, birds enough to 
save my reputation. So a week passed. 

The day before we returned — it wa"s Sunday — I 
walked out to a prominent rock, a short distance from 
the house, to enjoy a last look at the lovely landscape. 
It was a pleasant morning, and for ah hour or more I 
mused, with ray face toward the sea, which separated 
me from my family and friends. The spirit of sad- 
ness settled upon me, and turning from the prospect, 
I walked listlessly forward, scarcely conscious of the 
direction. In this manner, I descended the rock, and 
entered a ravine through which the path led to the 
house. I had proceeded but a short distance, when I 
was entirely concealed from observation. 

At that moment, a man leaped from behind a crag, 
and seized me by the throat. He was a large man, 



502 benedict's wanderings. 

of great muscular power, and his face had a demoni- 
acal expression. In his hand was a long poniard, 
with which he struck a deathful blow at my breast. 
But the likeness of my wife and children, enclosed in 
a metal case, which I carried all the while in my 
breast pocket, broke the blow and the dagger at the 
same time. 

The disappointment of the assassin wns evinced by 
a most diabolical exclamation, and in his anger he 
hurled the broken weapon against the crag behind 
which he had been concealed. Then he drew from 
the leg of his boot, a long knife, not unlike the sword 
of a sergeant, and aimed a blow at my head. 

Meanwhile, I tried to get my pistol, but could not, 
so powerful was the pressure of his arm upon my 
breast. I endeavored to free myself from his grasp, 
which tightened as my efforts increased, until I was 
almost unconscious. I saw the glittering blade raised 
above my head ; but before the blow could fall, there 
was the sharp report of a pistol, and the ruffian fell 
senseless at my feet, desperately wounded. I turned 
to see who was my deliverer. To my infinite sur- 
prise, there stood Tom Tackle, on the edge of the ra- 
vine, with a broad smile on his countenance. As he 
informed me afterwards, on being released from Glas- 
gow, he had gone to the Broomielaw, but instead of 
returning to America as he had promised, shipped as 



ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 503 

a sailor to the Mediterranean. At Recco he had de- 
serted the ship, and was skulking in the neighborhood 
for a day or two. until its disappearance. 

I sent Tom to the house for assistance, and in a 
few minutes the professor came, with several men and 
a stretcher. The wounded man was carried to the 
house, where his wounds were dressed. The bullet 
had passed through his right arm, shattering the 
bone above the elbow, and lodged in his left breast. 

I supposed the man a common robber, or a hired 
assassin, but he was neither. After the wounds were 
dressed, and the pain had somewhat subsided, the 
professor said to him — " You had better followed my 
advice." The wounded man made no reply, but 
after a few moments said — " Doctor, may I send for 
my wife?" " I have already sent for her, 1 ' replied 
the professor. Silence ensued. 

The noon train brought to Sorri, the" wife of the 
wounded man, Signora Lauretta Leonaldi, and the 
professor's carriage conveyed her to San Pallena. As 
she entered the room where her husband lay on a 
sofa, he extended his left hand, which she seized and 
pressed to her lips ; then dropping on her knees, she 
passed her arm around his neck, and buried her beau- 
tiful face in his bushy whiskers. In this condition 
they were left to themselves. 

An hour afterwards the professor proposed our re- 



504 benedict's wanderings. 

turn to the city. " Now that they are reconciled," 
he said," " it is better that we should be away. Not," 
he added, " that Lauretta would take any notice of 
us," (meaning me) " but a jealous man is never quite 
at his ease while there is another man in the samt 
neighborhood." 

In view of all the circumstances, I was at a loss to 
understand the conduct of Signora Leonaldi, partic- 
ularly the anxiety she manifested to obtain a secret 
interview at the Madonnetta. 

" It is a plain case," replied the professor, " Le- 
onaldi is jealous, his wife fond of admiration. A 
jealous man is vindictive, a vain woman is indiscreet. 
Lauretta flirted with your friend, the Bachelor, and 
Leonaldi resolved to have revenge. Under the im- 
pression that you were the offender, he has kept you 
under constant espionage. His wife sought a private 
interview, that she might put you on your guard. 
Where there is suspicion, nothing escapes the atten- 
tion. She dropped a note in the Corso, and you 
picked it up. She sent you a letter through a mes- 
senger, and the next morning you went to the Madon- 
netta. She passed you in the grand aisle, and 
whispered something in your ear. As for the rest, 
had it not been for your wayward countryman, San 
Pallena would contain a corpse instead of an invalid." 

Tom Tackle accompanied us to the city, and took 



ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 505 

charge of a large basket of choice figs, which the pro- 
fessor had put up for me. In Genoa, as in some other 
cities of Italy, many things brought within the walls 
are subject to a municipal tax ; among these are 
chickens, but not figs. Thinking to have a little 
sport, I leaned over my basket, which was closely 
covered, and chirped like a chicken. Instantly a 
customs' officer " went" for the basket, cut off the 
cover, and exposed the contents — figs. There was 'a 
burst of laughter from the bystanders, and many 
jeering remarks, which so enraged the officer, that he 
was about to " go" for me, when the professor inter- 
posed. The next morning I was in the newspaper ; 
but there was no allusion in print to the shooting of 
Leonaldi. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



NEAPOLIS. 




|ACHELOfi arrived at Genoa, very unexpect- 
ij edly to me, the day before our departure ; 
with the intention, he said, of shooting Le- 
onaldi ; but, I think, he was quite satisfied that Tom 
Tackle had saved him the trouble. As for Tom, he 
accompanied us to Naples, where he placed himself — 
having no passport — under the care of the American 
Consul, to be shipped to New York, where he resided. 

My stay in Genoa had been so long and so pleasant, 
that I left my friends there with much regret ; par- 
ticularly Professor di Lavarello, one of the most esti- 
mable gentlemen I ever met, and one to whom I am 
indebted for a thousand acts of kindness. He ac- 
companied me to the ship, and had me promise to 
write him on my return to America ; and the corres- 
pondence so commenced, has continued to this day. 

Our voyage from Genoa to Naples, was exceedingly 
pleasant, there being on board the vessel, beside 
Bachelor, the prince of traveling companions, the 



NEAPOLIS. 507 

wife of the New Zealand governor, Mrs. Murray, and 
her beautiful niece. To the latter Bachelor turned as 
naturally as the needle to the pole, and fairly fright- 
ened her with his blandishments. But her aunt, who 
had seen his devotion to Miss Small and "the ship's 
beauty" on board the Columbia — mentally, of course, 
for she was otherwise blind at the time — took good 
care that she should not become enamored. 

Some delay before starting, occasioned me a very 
great disappointment. Our vessel was to have stopped 
at Civita Vecchia, long enough to afford such as 
wished, a flying excursion to Rome ; but for want of 
time, no stop was made, though the captain, by way 
of compromise, pointed out to us in the distance, 
what he called the dome of St. Peter's. I regretted 
it more afterwards, when my then unexpected return 
home deprived me of the pleasure of visiting the 
papal city. 

The Bay of Naples, said to be the finest in the 
world, all things considered, is truly magnificent. It 
is of grand dimensions, being two-and-twenty miles 
in length, and ten in width. It is described by an- 
cient writers as being much larger ; and larger it must 
have been, if we may judge of its extent by the situ- 
ation of Pompeii, as represented on a map said to be 
nineteen hundred years old ; and by the situation of 
two lighthouses, both of which are now in the' heart 



508 



benedict's wandekings. 



of Naples. In this map, Pompeii is represented as 
being on the shore, whereas in fact it is now a 
long distance from the sea. The lighthouses stood, 
one on the site of the Gesu Nuovo, and the other 



iQliittcrnum \ v ■'■'-,. A : 
U .''\- Ateliaf . 



r AdNbyas 
mAcerrtte ^ 




^PoMpei 



/StabiaeN^ 



V 



BAY OF NAPLES, B. C. 

behind the church of San Onofrio de' Vecchi, where 
its ruins are still visible. 

The view of Naples, as it is approached from the 
sea — the best distant prospect of the city — is really- 
beautiful beyond description ; all the houses being 
visible, rising in the form of an amphitheatre, crowned 
by the sombre castle of St. Elmo, one of the defences 



NEAPOLIS. 509 

of the city. It extends along the shore of the bay, 
and up the acclivities of the adjacent mountains, 
three miles one way and half as much the other, be- 
ing about nine miles in circumference. It is the most 
populous city in Italy, containing- half a million in- 
habitants. 

The friends of Mrs. Murray were at the Louvre, 
whither Bachelor and I went also, the more willingly 
as it contained an excellent table d' hote, and fronted 
on the public promenade. 

In the evening, we drove from the Castello del 
Oro, another fortification for the defence of the city, 
to the Grotto of Pausolipo, at the entrance of which 
is the tomb of Virgil. The Spiaggia, as is custom- 
ary at that time of day, was full of equipages. As 
nobody walks in Naples who is able to ride, the va- 
riety of vehicles, from the elegant to the grotesque, 
was as great as we are accustomed to see in the an- 
nual parade" of the Governor of Connecticut, on the 
day of inauguration. 

The fashionable ladies promenade, on the house- 
tops, which are flat, and ornamented with trees and 
flowers. Great pains are bestowed on their personal 
charms, before they appear in public, that they may 
attract the attention of the opposite sex. In this re- 
spect, how unlike the ladies of America ! 

It must not be supposed, however, that nobody 
walks because So many ride ; there are enough who 



510 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



can not afford any means of locomotion, except such 
as nature supplied. These, mostly the poorer classes, 
walk on the quays, a number of which are beautiful 
promenades. But among them are many good musi- 
cians, some of whom carry their instruments with 
them, for the gratification of their associates. In 
particular, I noticed one, who was playing for his 
sweetheart, who sat at his feet, apparently entranced. 

They were bare-footed, 
and otherwise poorly 
clad, but evidently they 
understood and appre- 
ciated music. 

During our drive, we 
had a fine opportunity 
to notice the people and 
their manners, particu- 
larly the ludicrous side 
of their characters. To 




LOVE MAKING. 



avoid it was impossible in the society of Mrs. Murray, 
who saw something comical in every trifling incident. 
First she called our attention to the operations of a 
brace of juvenile pickpockets, nearly in front of our 
hotel. To a gentleman who was reading a paper, one 
applied for alms, thereby securing his attention, while 
the other divested him of his pocket-handkerchiefs. 
Of course there is not in all Europe a pleasanter 



NEAPOLIS. 



511 




drive than that along the Spiaggia, on an autumnal 
afternoon. On one hand is the bay, of which various 

prospects are obtained in 
passing ; and on the other, 
the city, which presents a 
great variety of architect- 
ural achievements ; while 
between the Castle and the 
[ij Mole, the strand is adorned 
HP with numerous marble stat- 
ues, some of exquisite work- 

the pickpockets. Near one of these statues, 

which we had stopped to admire, Mrs. Murray pointed 
us to what she termed a specimen ol Italian industry 
— a couple of young fedows, who had suspended their 
labors for a time, to 
win or lose the earn- 
ings of the day. 
They were sitting on 
a bench, of which i 
there are many for I 
the accommodation I 
of the weary, play- 
ing cards for stakes, card players. 
as is the custom of the country. 

Returning, we passed through the Strada Toledo, 




512 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



a grand thoroughfare, extending the whole length of 
the city, from the Palazza Keale to the northern boun- 
dary. This is the only street that is not inconven- 
iently narrow, though most of the others are tolera- 
bly regular, and very neatly paved with blocks of lava. 
There are several squares, irregular and of small 
dimensions, the principal of which are the Piazza 
Reale and the Piazza di Mercata. The latter, as the 
name indicates, is the market place, in which we 
stopped for a few minutes, to enjoy a look at another 
phase of Italian life. 

Near us was a vender of 
cakes, of which he had sev- 
eral kinds, displayed in an 
open basket, suspended by a 
cord about his neck. There 
was a dozen other venders in 
view, for it is a common em- 
ployment, largely carried on 
^^ in the streets, like many 
Jgp: other sorts of business. But 
^gy this one in particular attract- 
cake pedlar. e d the attention of Mrs. 

Murray, who saw something ludicrous in his appear- 
ance. He was clad after the manner of his business 
competitors, but presented a most lugubrious counte- 
nance,' at which it was impossible to look without 
laughing outright. 




NEAPOLIS. 



513 



In contrast with the cake pedlar, was one of the 
class sometimes called the benefactors of Italy, 
the wine merchants, who also do their business in the 
market place and streets. He was a young fellow, 
with naked feet, sleeves rolled above his elbows, and 

shirt open at the collar, 
who walked forward with 
a light step, a cheerful 
countenance, and an eye 
quick to discern a cus- 
tomer. 

" Before we leave the 
market," said Mrs. Murray, 
"there is one thing more I 
wish to see — the blessed 
food of Italy/' 

" There it is before you," 
replied Bachelor, pointing to a stand upon which 
was displayed great quantities of macaroni. 

" It is not so much the food," said Mrs. Murray, 
u as the process of eating it, which I desire to see. I 
am told that it is very laughable." 

" There it is, then," said I, pointing to a vender of 
macaroni near the corner of the square, who was serving 
his customers. He was standing behind a small table, 
lifting from a deep dish into a plate, the long, limber 
tubes ; some of which, though he evinced considera- 




WINE MERCHANT. 



514 



benedict's wanderings. 



ble dexterity, continually slipped through his fingers. 
There were two customers, one of whom stood at the 
vender's elbow, while the other was seated on the 
ground. They conveyed the food from the plate to 
their mouths, with their fingers, as the vender lifted 

it from the dish. The pro- 
cess is one in which much 
skill may be exercised. 
Sometimes the smooth, 
slippery, pipe-stem tube 
slips back into the plate, 
but it is seldom lost on the 
ground. The plate is held 
close under the mouth, un- 
til one end of the tube is 
macaroni. inserted between the lips, 

when it is taken in by suction ; the highest skill con- 
sisting in having it disappear at a single suck, with- 
out allowing the outer end to hit the " innocent nose." 
There are people — I meet such every day, at nearly 
every corner of the street — who 

" Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing ;" 

but, few, who, like Mrs. Murray, can find in every 

thing a source of amusement. Until our drive that 

evening, in the Spiaggia and Piazza di Mercata, I 

never realized how great must have been the privation 

of sight to that worthy woman. 





[<f*'l\ 



CHAPTER XXII. 



THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. 

^APLES is called a fortified city, having^walls 
and other defences. There are three castles, 
two of which I have mentioned, the third be- 
ing Castello Nuovo. Perhaps these are well enough 
for the purposes intended, but the walls are not of 
much use, the city having grown beyond them to 
such an extent, that some of the gates are now almost 
in the center. 

Though the architecture is not equal to that of 
some other cities I visited, there are a few excellent 
edifices. Among the churches, of which there are 
three hundred, the most worthy of mention is the 
Cathedral, commonly called San Gennaro, from the 
patron saint of Naples. It is a Tuscan Gothic 
structure, erected on the site of the Temple of 
Apollo. The outside is encrusted with white marble, 
and ornamented with two columns of porphyry. The 
inside is supported by upwards of a hundred columns 
of Egyptian granite and African marble, taken from 



516 benedict's wanderings. 

the temples of Neptune and Apollo. It contains the 
relics of San Gennaro, (among others, the phials of 
his blood, which, credulous people believe, melts an- 
nually on a certain day in September), and. on this 
account is held in high veneration. 

Some of the other churches merit a brief mention. 
The most singular of these, is that of Santa Maria 
della Pietra, the Mansoleum of the Sangro family, 
which is d*ecorated with rare marbles, and surrounded 
with arches. In every arch is a sarcophagus and 
statue of a piince of Sangro, and attached is the 
tomb of his wife, with a statue representing her most 
conspicuous virtue. The most remarkable of these 
statues is that of Modesty, a figure underneath a 
veil, through which the features are clearly discern- 
able. This church contains two other veiled figures, 
the Dead Christ and Vice Convinced, the latter rep- 
resenting a man struggling to free himself from a net 
in which he is caught. 

Santi Apostoli, originally founded by Constantine 
the Great, on the site of the Temple of Mercury, and 
rebuilt during the seventeenth century, is rich in 
frescoes and decorations, and contains the tomb of the 
poet Marini. San Domenico Maggiore contains the 
Annunciation and the Flagellation, the former attrib- 
uted to Titian, and the latter to Caravaggio. San 
Martini, after designs by Fansaga, is the most splendid 



THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. 517 

and beautiful sacred edifice in the city, and in the 
excellence of its paintings, and the value of its mar- 
bles and precious stones, may vie, it is said, with any 
church in existence. San Fillippo Neri, one of the 
handsomest, is incrusted, lined, and paved with mar- 
ble, and the high altar is composed of agate, sar- 
donax, jasper, lapis-lazuli, and mother of pearl. 
Santa Maria della Sanita, which contains some ex- 
cellent paintings, leads to the Catacombs, said to be 
larger than those of Rome ; but as the persons who 
perished during the last plague were thrown in here, 
I sacrificed curiosity to discretion, and left them un- 
explored. 

Of the edifices devoted to secular pursuits, there 
are a few fine structures. The Palazza Reale is an 
immense building of three stories, each differing from 
the others in architecture. It contains magnificent 
apartments, handsomely furnished, and enriched with 
choice paintings ; among which are the Madonna of 
Monte Cassino, by Raphael, and Christ disputing 
with the Doctors, by Caravaggio. 

There are seven theatres, of which San Carlo is 
said to be the largest in the world. This distinction 
is also claimed for the theatre of Milan. Both are 
immense structures, but that of Naples excels in mag- 
nificence. 

Most of these places, and many others not men- 



518 benedict's wanderings. 

tioned, I visited alone, as Bachelor had seen them 
before his excursion into Germany ; or, to give a still 
better reason — for some of these objects [might be 
seen a second time with pleasure — he was just then 
particularly devoted to Miss Murray. 

It was different when I came to visit the Museo 
Internazional. Then I was accompanied, not only 
by him, but. by Mrs. Murray and niece, and her 
friends — her brother, wife and daughter, and another 
gentleman and wife, more distant relations — alto- 
gether, a very pleasant party. 

Originally the building, called the Palazzo degli 
Studii Publici, was occupied as a university ; but 
this institution being removed to the Convent of Gesu 
Vecchio, it was converted into a national museum, 
and enriched with antiquities found at Capua,' Pom- 
peii, Herculaneum, and the smaller cities burried 
beneath the eruptions of Vesuvius. 

It would be impossible, in less space than a vol- 
ume, to describe the objects in this museum ; their 
names alone would constitute a catalogue of many 
pages, for in number they are thousands. The an- 
cient frescoes found at Pompeii and Herculaneum 
exceed sixteen hundred, and of ancient glass there 
are four thousand specimens. There is a collection 
of Mosaics and Mural inscriptions, another of Egyp- 
tian antiquities, and another of ancient Greek sculp- 



THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. 519 

tures ; the last occupying three large galleries, r and 
several cabinets. 

In these galleries may be seen busts and statues of 
some of the most illustrious men of antiquity, of 
whom I may mention Herodotus, Homer, Demos- 
thenes, Cicero, Aristides, Julius Ceesar, and Alexan- 
der the Great. There is a Cabinet of Venuses, in 
which the naked figures are disposed, and a secret 
cabinet to which ladies are not admitted. 

We had reached the Gallery of Bronze Statues, 
and were examining its greatest curiosity, the bronze 
water-cock, which contains water that has been her- 
metrically sealed for eighteen hundred years, when I 
was startled by the presence of William Stewart and 
his wife — Adonis and Venus in flesh and blood. 

Mrs. Stewart extended her hand, and with the 
sweetest of smiles said, " I am very glad to meet 
you ;" then turning to Bachelor, she added, " As 
glad to see you." But neither she nor Mrs. Murray 
recognized, though the latter said, " Your voice is 
familiar, but not your face.'" Mrs. Stewart regarded 
her for a moment, and then replied, " Both your face 
and voice are familiar, and yet I can not place you in 
my memory." I introduced them as " the blind lady" 
and " the ship's beauty,' ' whereupon they embraced. 
Said Mrs. Stewart, " I am so glad you can see ;" and 
Mrs. Murray replied, " That I may admire your rare 
beauty.' ' 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



CURIOUS CAVES. 




IN all my subsequent excursions from Naples, I 
i| was accompanied by Mrs. Murray and her 
Sjjj^ friends, and William Stewart and his beautiful 
bride ; the last of whom was the life of our com- 
pany. Hitherto, Bachelor and I had regarded this 
lovely woman as simply one to be admired because of 
her comeliness ; but we soon discovered, when among 
the ruins of ancient Italy, that no one in our party 
was better versed in Roman history. It was no 
longer a marvel that William Stewart had sent his 
brother across the ocean to bring her back to " Old 
Colia.' 1 

Four days were spent in our excursion to Paestum, 
the ruins of which, next to those of Pompeii, are the 
most interesting in Italy. On our way, we stopped 
at Sorrento, the birth-place of Tasso, and visited his 
house on the shore of the sea, the caves of Ulysses, 
and other curiosities. We also visited the island of 
Capri, celebrated in history as the retreat of Tiberias, 



CURIOUS CAVES. 521 

and the scene of his orgies. Here, the object of prin- 
cipal interest is the Grotto of Nymphs — two caverns, 
distinguished as the Green and Blue, and entered 
from the sea under an arch about three feet above the 
water. Owing to the swell of the sea, our first at- 
tempt to gain admittance was a failure, and the 
remainder of the day was spent in wandering about 
the island, among the Roman ruins, and in watching 
a small gathering- of idle Italians playing mora in 
front of the hotel. This is a game very common 
among the people of the peninsula, and consists — 
if I have a correct impression of its character — in 
one of the players opening quickly a certain number 
of his fingers, which his competitor, simultaneously, 
endeavors to match by ojtening a corresponding num- 
ber of fingers and calling out the number in a loud 
voice. If the same number of fingers is opened and 
named by the matching party, he wins ; otherwise he 
loses. Like all the games in that country, it is 
played for gain, with an interest that extends even 
to the bystanders. 

The next day we were more fortunate ; our en- 
trance was easily effected. By itself, the Green 
Grotto would be a great curiosity ; by comparison, it 
is barely worth a visit. It is otherwise with the 
Blue Grotto, which is immense, being 150 feet long 
and 100 wide, and of surpassing beauty. As in the 



CURIOUS CAVES. 523 

other everything is green, so in this everything is — 

"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.'' 
It requires some time to accustom the eye to the gor- 
geous glory of the grotto, and meanwhile we sat in 
silent wonder, 

"With the blue above and the blue below." 

But when our admiration of the stalectitic beauties 

of the grotto was satisfied, I was glad to he agaio 

on 

" The sea ! the sea! the open sea! 
The blue, the fresh, the ever free !" 

The grandeur and gloom of the ruins of Passtum, 
surpass anything of the kind I have ever seen. Like 
the ruins of Baalbec, they are in the midst of a wild- 
erness, far removed from the presence of any power 
by which they might have been erected. The prin- 
cipal ruins are the Basilica, the Forum, the Amphi- 
theatre, the Temple of Vesta, and the Temple of 
Neptune ; the four sides of the last having a range of 
thirty-six pillars, surmounted by an architrave and 
frize of the Doric order of architecture. 

Our next excursion was in the opposite direction 
as far as the ruins of old Cuinas, chiefly celebrated for 
its vast number of tombs, in which are found the 
remains of three distinct races ; uppermost, the 
graves of Bomans, underneath these, the tombs of 
Greeks, and at the depth of fifty feet from the sur- 
face, sepulchres of an unknown people. 



524 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



The objects of interest seen on this excursion were 
very numerous, though I have space for the mention 
of but a few. The Grotto of Pausilipo, elsewhere 
mentioned, is merely a tunnel, through which we 
passed on our way to Pozzuoli. Anciently, this was 
an important city, and its environs were crowded with 
the villas of wealthy Romans. The principal ruins 
are the Temple of Jupiter Serapis, the Temple of 
the Nymphs, the Temple of Neptune, the Villa of 
Cicero, and the Amphitheatre in which Nero fought, 
and under which St. Gennaro was imprisoned. We 




SOLFATERRA. 



visited the monastery of Cappucini, in which the 
latter suffered martyrdom, and saw the stone upon 
which he was beheaded. 

Among the objects that most attracted our notice 
upon this excursion, was the half-extinct volcano of 



CURIOUS CAVES. 525 

Solfaterra. We passed it on our way to Lake Avernus, 
which occupies the crater of an extinct volcano. This 
lake is half a mile in diameter, of great depth, and 
without an outlet. Anciently, it was believed that 
no bird could fly over it without being destroyed, but 
its banks are now occupied by gardens and vineyards. 
The Sybil's Cave, immortalized by Virgil as the 
avenue to the infernal regions, was so dark and dirty 
that none of our party could be induced to enter it. 
I can no more than mention the Baths of Nero, over 
which it was supposed his villa was situated ; and the 
ruins of Baias, a town notorious for its profligacy dur- 
ing the Roman and Middle Ages. Lake Agnano, the 
waters of which are noted fur the cure of gout and 
rheumatism, like Avernus, occupies the crater of an 
extinct volcano, and is half a mile in diameter. Near 
it are the Grotto del Cane and the Sulphur baths of 
San Germano. 






CHAPTEK XXIV. 

AMONG THE RUINS. 
HE last of our excursions was to Vesuvius, 



and the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, 

was a much larger volcano, of which Monte Somma 
is a remnant. At present, the height of the erup- 
tive cone is about 3500 feet. Since the destruction of 
the cities mentioned, there have been forty-five known 
eruptions. In action, Vesuvius presents a magnifi- 
cent spectacle. During the present century there 
have been several eruptions, that of 1862 causing im- 
mense loss of life and property. 

Herculaneum was destroyed by torrents of volcanic 
mud. In subsequent eruptions, it was covered with 
ashes and lava, in some places to the depth of one 
hundred and ten feet. In the suburbs of this city, 
some distinguished Romans resided. The principal 
object of interest, are the remains of an ancient thea- 
tre, supposed to have accommodated ten thousand 
persons. 



AMONG THE KUINS. 527 

Pompeii, in A. D. 63, was visited by an earth- 
quake, which occasioned great destruction. Sixteen 
years after, it was overwhelmed by an eruption of 
Vesuvius, from the crater of which it is about five 
miles distant. For the period of nearly sixteen cen- 
turies, its locality was unknown, and its existence 
almost forgotten. In 1748, some peasants employed 
in cutting a ditch, discovered the ruins, which soon 
became an object of interest and attention. Seven 
years afterwards excavations were commenced, and 
have been continued to the present time. Over two- 
fifths of the city have been uncovered, and thus far 
every thing seems to be in a state of extraordinary 
preservation. 

The city was enclosed by walls, twenty feet high, 
of the same thickness, faced on both sides with lava, 
and surmounted with towers. The entrance was by 
gates, six of which have been exposed. The streets 
are numerous, and all through which I passed, were 
neatly paved with blocks of lava. Many of them 
contained shops, as appears by the signs, still plainly 
visible, and in some instances, by the utensils of trade. 
More than a hundred private houses have been ex- 
posed, embracing every variety, from the cottage of 
the plebeian to the mansion of the patrician. Many 
of these houses are low — but one story ; yet all of 
them, so far as I observed, are terraced. A market- 



528 benedict's wanderings. 

place and many public edifices have also been discov- 
ered. Medals, statues, jewels, and nearly every 
description of household furniture have been found 



A STREET IN POMPEII. 



almost unaltered, and even books and paintings in a 
state of partial preservation. 

The more important houses, both public and 
private, have received names, some of them from 
pictures they contained, and some from other circum- 
stances. The Villa of Diomedes, one of the most 



AMONG THE KTJINS. 529 

extensive private residences discovered, received its 
name from the tomb of M. Arrius Diomedes, on the 
opposite side of the way. The House of Adonis is 
named from a large painting illustrating Adonis 
wounded by a wild boar, and consoled by Venus. 
The House of Sallust has an inscription painted on 
the outer wall, C. Sallust, M. F. The House of the 
Faun, supposed to be the largest and most elegant of 
the private houses, contains a statuette of the Dancing 
Faun. 

It was less difficult to find names for the public 
edifices, some of which contained intrinsic evidence of 
their character. The Amphitheatre is a building of 
immense proportions, estimated to accommodate ten 
thousand persons. The Barracks, a very large enclos- 
ure, when first excavated, contained many marks of 
military life, and a number of skeletons, possibly of 
prisoners. The Tragic Theatre, capable of contain- 
ing five thousand spectators, is a good specimen of 
the ancient theatre. The Basilica, 221 feet long and 
80 broad, was the judgment ball. 

Around the Forum, which occupies an elevated po- 
sition, and is a place of spacious and imposing char- 
acter, are some of the principal edifices exposed : at 
the north end, the finest location in the city, the 
Temple of Jupiter, commanding a magnificent view 
of Vesuvius and the Appenines ; on the west side, 



530 



BENEDICT S WANDEEINGS. 



the Temple of Venus, the most superb structure of 
the sort in the city ; and on the east side, the Pan- 
theon and Senate Chamber. 

Some places have a variety of names, as the House 
of Homer, also called the House of the Tragic Poet ; 




AMPHITHEATRE AT POMPEII 



the House of the Faun, also called the House of the 
Great Mosaic ; and the Greek Temple, which is like- 
wise called the Temple of Neptune, and the Temple 
of Hercules. A better idea of the extent of the city, 
and of the relative location of the places mentioned, 



to .J 




§ 4 C 

S"! u ^* 


1 ^ 


BBH 


*K Ph 


4 


f|» ■ , 


'v'HaBht 


y ^ 


- Ittfc^, 


. / 




|| » 



S'a 




S> 








p> 


9 




A! 


^ 






H 


8 


•SJ 







* * 




•fc 


y 


§1 


si 


5-s 


Xi 














« ^ 


<& 






rfc 


•a £ 


y 


P 


'*- 




*■£ 




1 


rSi 


§ 




» 5iu«iMiii iyriQ' 



AMONG THE RUINS. 531 

and others of scarcely less importance, may be ob- 
tained from a map of the excavations. 

Many amusing incidents occurred during this ex- 
cursion, but I have space for the mention of only one. 
Our guide having his part well committed, was 
inclined to electrify us now and then with his superior 
knowledge. Having reached a subterranean apart- 
ment in one of the elegant private houses, he informed 
us that it was the cellar in which a bottle of wine had 
been found during the removal of the ashes and tufa 
from the building. Bachelor listened attentively to 
his account of the discovery, and immediately began 
to search the place for another. The guide chuckled, 
but Bachelor persisted, with his cane poking about 
among the rubbish, in the dark and distant corners of 
the cellar. Presently he fished out something, which, 
upon examination, proved to be another bottle. 

It was a long, narrow vessel, flat on the sides, round 
on the edges, and square on the bottom, with sloping 
shoulders and a slender neck. The mouth was cov- 
ered with a glass cap, which went on with a screw, 
and was hermetically sealed. On each side, slightly 
raised, was a distinct Roman P. The bottle con- 
tained a liquid, which, held between the eye and the 
light, was of a purple hue, but when poured into an 
ordinary glass was red, while the bottle was blue. 

The guide wished to take charge of the bottle, and 



532 benedict's wanderings. 

in the name of the government protested against its 
being opened ; but Bachelor, not heeding his remon- 
strances, picked at the seal with his knife. It was a 
hard substance, but soon began to yield to his efforts, 
and by the time we had reached the street, was 
dropping off in pieces. When it was all chipped 
away, he removed the cover, and poured out a glass 
of the contents for Mrs. Murray ; but she declined it, 
saying, " It may be poison." Bachelor held it under 
his nose, then tasted it, and with a burst of exulta- 
tion, exclaimed, " As I live, it is Lacryma Christi." 
This is a luscious wine, made from grapes that grow 
near Vesuvius ; a small production, reserved for the 
royal cellars. 

After all the company had partaken of the con- 
tents, a small quantity was given to the guide, who, 
smacking his lips, exclaimed, " How age improves 
wine ! " Afterwards, Bachelor presented the bottle to 
him, as the foundation of a fortune, upon condition 
that he would not report the discovery to his govern- 
ment. 

What success the fellow met with I never heard, 
as on the next day Bachelor and I bade adieu to our 
friends in Naples, and sailed for Sicily. 



PART V. 



ff%m« 




tmWL 






CHAPTER I. 



ST. ROSALIE'S CITY. 



^]m|)T the very last, I think I should not have had 
P^Pl the pleasure of Bachelor's company, but for 
r;,- the assistance of Mrs. Murray. Perceiving 
the cause of his hesitation, she remarked to me cas- 
ually, but in his hearing, that she was very sorry to 
part with us, and especially before the arrival of Mr. 
Henderson, to whom her neice was engaged. This 
was sufficient — Bachelor went with, Benedict. 

We sailed direct to Palermo, the chief city of 
Sicily, of which it is the capital ; at present contain- 
ing nearly 200,000 inhabitants. It is a handsome 
city, built in the form of an amphitheatre, facing the 
sea, and is enclosed by a wall. It is divided into four 
parts, by two large streets, each more than a mile in 
length, leading to the four principal gates. The 
streets are well paved with flat blocks of lava, and 
are adorned with statues and fountains. 

Between the city and the sea, is a raised terrace, a 
mile in length, and two hundred and fifty feet in 



536 BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS. 

breadth, the finest promenade in the city, called the 
Marina. Below this walk is a beautiful drive, and at 
the east end of it is a public garden, the Villa Giulla. 
beautifully laid out. and ornamented with statues. 
fountains, and summer-houses. 

Palermo contains many handsome buildings, pri- 
vate as well as public, built in the Doric, Ionic, and 
Corrinthian orders of architecture. Nearly all the 
dwelling houses have balconies, where the ladies usu- 
ally spend their evenings. 

There are said to be over seventy convents, two- 
thirds of which are for males. The churches are also 
numerous, and most of them truly magnificent. In 
marbles, mosaics, and alabasters, they are tmequaled. 
The floors are of inlaid marble, and the altars and 
tabernacles of precious stones, jasper, lapis-lazuli, 
verd-antique, malachite, and porphyry. 

The Cathedral is a large edifice of the twelfth cen- 
tury, surmounted with a modern cupola. It was 
erected by the Norman Prince Ruggero — anglicized, 
Roger — by whom the island was delivered from the 
Saracens, and dedicated to Santa Rosalia, (St. Ros- 
alie) a niece of William the Good. It contains a 
statue of this saint, and the tombs ot its founder ami 
Ferdinand II. The other churches that particularly 
attracted our attention, were St. Peter, St. Guiseppe 
and Martorana. 



st. rohalie'h city. 537 

Of the palaces, the most important is the Palazza 
Regale, in the twelfth century a fortress, and the res- 
idence of Roger. It is now the residence of the 
viceroy, and contains a gallery of pictures, a good 
armory, and an observatory, from which Piozza dis- 
covered the planet Ceres. The Palazza della Ziza is 
a real Saracen structure which was erected near the 
close of the ninth century. The Palazza Vercelle, 
commanding a fine view of the harbor, is built to 
represent a Pompeian villa. 

Near the Palazza della Ziza is the Capuchin con- 
vent, containing the celebrated Catacombs. In this 
receptacle, are an immense number of bodies, the 
males standing on their feet, the females lyingin boxes 
with glass lids, and all chid as in life. Borne of the 
bodies have been here for several centui 

From Palermo, we made two interesting excursions, 
one to Monte Peregrine, and the other to Monreale. 
On the former, is the Shrine of St. Rosalie, the pat- 
roness of Palermo, concerning whom there is an inter- 
esting legend, believed by the natives. 

At the age of fourteen years, St. Rosalie was affi- 
anced to Roger, then King of Sicily. Two days 
before the time appointed for the celebration of the 
nuptials, she disappeared, and her body lay for some 
centuries, in a grotto on the top of this mountain, it 
was mysteriously discovered during the prevalence of 



538 benedict's wanderings. 

a plague in Palermo, in a perfect state of preserva- 
tion ; and by the municipal authorities and dignita- 
ries of the Church, brought in state to the Cathedral 
of Palermo, when the plague departed. 

To commemorate this event, a church was erected 
near the summit of the mountain, with an altar over 
the cave where her remains were discovered. Near 
the altar is a fine marble statue' of this sainted virgin 
dying. The view from the summit of this moun- 
tain, in beauty of outline, is said to excel any pros- 
pect in Europe. 

In a lovely situation, four miles from Palermo, is 
the town of Monreale, originally a Saracenic hamlet, 
but enlarged by William the Good, who built in it a 
stately Cathedral, the finest sacred edifice in Sicily. 
Four styles of architecture are combined in its con- 
struction, and like the churches of Palermo, the walls 
are covered with mosaics, the floor inlaid with choice 
marbles, and the altars and tabernacles adorned with 
precious stones. 

On the staircase of the annexed monastery is a cel- 
ebrated painting, by Monrealese, which represents 
William the Good blessed by St. Benedict, (one of 
my ancestral relations, I presume) ; but, for some 
reason, females are not allowed to look upon this 
great masterpiece. 

On an elevated spot to the right of Monreale, is the 



st. Rosalie's city. 



539 



Monastero di San Martino, supposed to have been 
founded by Gregory the Great. It is appropriated to 
noblemen only, and in the beauty of its situation, the 
splendor of its appearance, and the richness of its 
embellishments, resembles a royal residence more than 
a religious retirement. The cloister is said to surpass 
any thing of the kind in Christendom. 




CLOISTER AT MONREALE. 



Among other places of note, we visited the villa 
and gardens of Prince Butera, which, in 1845-6, 
were occupied by the imperial family of Russia ; and 



540 benedict's wanderings. 

La Favorita, in which the Bourbons resided while 
Murat sat on the throne of Naples. 

In Palermo, there are several educational institu- 
tions, the principal being a college of nobles, a high 
female seminary, and an episcopal seminary. There 
are also libraries and scientific associations, public 
baths and charitable institutions, a royal hospital and 
a foundling hospital, an arsenal and ship-yards. 

Our stay in Palermo was short — only four days, but 
exceedingly pleasant. In midsummer, the climate of 
Sicily is too hot, and at some other seasons, there is 
danger from malaria ; but in October, no inconven- 
ience from either is experienced. I mention this fact 
for the benefit of the other members of the great 
Benedict family, who may wish to visit this ancient 
city and regale their eyes with its beauty, and splen- 
dor, and lavish luxuriance. 




**slMM" «M«^- 




CHAPTER 11. 

OLD ZANCLE. 

|KOM Palermo, we proceeded by steamer to 
1^ Messina, passing the Lipari Islands about day- 
break. This group is entirely of volcanic ori- 
gin, and three of the islands are volcauoes. Lipari 
(which gives name to the group, being I he largest) 
and Vulcano are occasionally in action, while Strom- 
boli is constantly emitting smoke and flaines. It is a 
conical bifurcated rock, 2500 feet in height, and about 
twelve miles in circumference. It contains a popula- 
tion of 12,000 inhabitants. 

Messina was originally called Zancle, from a Greek 
term signifying a sickle, the harbor, one of the best 
in the Mediterranean, being formed by a semi-circular 
strip of land, resembling that utensil. It is walled, 
flanked with bastions, and defended by a citadel and 
several forts. In size, it is the second city in Sicily, 
extending two miles along the bay and half a mile up 
the acclivity, in the form of an amphitheatre. The 
population is about two-thirds that of Palermo. 



542 



benedict's wanderings. 



For the most part, the city is handsomely laid out, 
with wide streets, well-paved with blocks of lava. 
The principal promenade is the quay, which is adorned 
with statues and fountains, and, as in Palermo, called 




STROMBOLI. 



the Marina. Beyond this is a magnificent terrace, 
which, before the earthquake of 1783, was lined with 
stately -edifices, only a few of which survived that 
great convulsion. The houses constructed since that 
event, seldom exceed two stories. 

As in all Italian cities, the Cathedral is a principal 
edifice. It was erected in the twelfth century, and is 



OLD ZANCLE. 



543 



of Saracenic and Gothic architecture. The inside, 
shaped like a Latin cross, is embellished with columns 
of Egyptian granite, taken from ancient temples. It 
contains a marble pulpit, beautifully carved, and a 
high altar, superbly decorated. Internally, through- 
out, it is richly ornamented. 

We visited several other churches, the best worthy 
of notice being the Annunciation, Monte Virgine, and 
San Gregoris ; the last annexed to a Ladies' convent, 
and built on the foundations of an ancient temple, 
consecrated to Jove. It is beautifully situated on a 
lofty eminence, which commands a magnificent view, 
and is the most elegantly decorated church in the city. 

Near this edifice, in front 
of an ordinary dwelling, 
a priest was addressing a 
house-wife. This is no un- 
common occurrence, but 
something in his manner 
§£ arrested my attention. " Is 
IB he lecturing her upon her 
| temporal, or spiritual du- 
fH ties ? " I inquired of Bach- 
elor. " I think he is chiding 
priest and house-wife, her for her shortcomings, or 
rebuking her for her sins,'' he replied. Perhaps it 
was so, for the priest was very earnest, and the house- 
wife obviously displeased. 




544 benedict's wanderings. 

The principal of the public buildings devoted to 
secular purposes, is the Viceroy's Palace, at the south 
end of the city, a fine building, in a beautiful park. 
There is an archiepiscopal palace, senate chamber, 
custom house, exchange, bank, arsenal, lazzaretto, two 
theatres, and an opera house, one of the best in 
Europe. 

The Piazza del Duomo contains a fine fountain, and 
a colossal equestrian statue, in bronze, of Carlo II. ; 
and in another square, is a demi-colossal statue, in 
bronze, of Ferdinando I., a similar statue of Carlo 
III., and a celebrated fountain, representing Neptune, 
drawn by four horses, in the act of calming a tempest 
excited by Scylla and Charybdis. 

In this city, the streets and public places are full 
of filthy beggars ; and we were rejoiced, after one 
day's sojourn, to depart for Catania, where our 
friends, informed of our coming, were prepared to 
receive us with welcomes. 




CHAPTER III. 

THE CITY OF LAVA. 

LO Catania we proceeded by railroad, the ascent 
of Mount iEtna being something I very much 
^fgj* desired to make, if my health would admit, on 
reaching Nicolosi. Arrived at that point, I felt my- 
self strong enough to attempt the undertaking, but 
had very little conception of the suffering I had to 
undergo before my return. I persevered, however, as 
others had done before, and though I nearly perished 
with the intense cold, had the rare pleasure of behold- 
ing — possibly from the very spot where Adrian stood 
— the sun rise from behind the mountains of Calabria, 
and spread his unclouded effulgence over Sicily and 
the sea. 

Sixty eruptions of iEtna are recorded in history.. 
By some this mountain is estimated to be thirty, and 
by others forty leagues, in circumference. The lowest 
measurement allows the cone a height of 10,000 feet, 
the crater a depth of 600, and a width of two and a 
half miles. 



546 



BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS. 



At the foot of this mountain, Catania is situated. 
The origin of this city is lost in antiquity, but there 
are evidences of Greek and Roman occupancy. Most 
of the ancient edifices, however, are entombed beneath 
the eruptions of iEtna. By the eruption of 1669, 




CRATER OF ^RTNA. 



the city was severely injured, and by the earthquake 
of 1693, it was almost entirely destroyed. 

The first person to welcome us on our arrival, was 
Musgrave. He had been at the station, every day 
after the receipt of my letter. He was so improved 



THE CITY OF LAVA. 547 

in health and appearance, that I was at first in doubt 
as to his identity. He was most cordial in his wel- 
come, but had the frankness to admit that it was not 
entirely devoid of selfishness. 

"It is a fearful odds — three against one !" he re- 
marked. "It is a powerful combination — a deter- 
mined guardian, a subtle priest, and a fervent lover ! 
Against each I used his own weapons, and for a time 
maintained my vantage ground. Finding it impossi- 
ble to dislodge me from Nora's affections, they resolved 
to deprive us of each other's society ; and had it not 
been for your letters, announcing your coming, I 
know not what would have been the result. I think 
they would have forced her to choose between O'Reilly 
and a convent. 1 ' 

He paused to afford me an opportunity to answer, 
and I observed that he was in nervous expectation. 
"Allow me to survey the battle-field before venturing 
an opinion, 1 ' I replied. " I shall then have more confi- 
dence in what I recommend." 

At the hotel, our friends — " the fine ould Irish gin- 
tleman, 11 "the lover all as frantic," and "the priest 
all shaven and shorn" — received us with expressions 
of welcome ; but if there was not a lack of cordiality, 
there certainly was some embarrassment. 

I was not prepared for the change I saw in the 
"colleen bawn.' 1 She looked thin and dejected, 



548 benedict's wanderings. 

though I think she still possessed firmness enough to 
have resisted any attempt at coercion. 

Her joy at meeting us was too intense for words of 
welcome; it found vent in tears. Father McQuinlan, 
who was present, shrugged his shoulders — a mark of 
disapprobation. 

In Catania we spent several days, devoting an hour 
or two of each to short excursions, Musgrave acting 
as our guide. It would be impossible to mention 
every thing we saw worthy of notice, and useless to 
distinguish the doings of each day. 

On the first excursion, I invited the other gentle- 
men, separately, to bear us company, but for different 
reasons they all declined. Last of all, I invited 
Nora, and she accepted. The arrangement was pre- 
cisely such as I desired. 

Catania was once a city of great magnificence ; it 
is even now, next to Palermo, the handsomest town 
in Sicily. The streets are wide, straight and exten- 
sive, and lined with elegant houses, churches, convents 
and palaces. 

In several of the Italian cities, lava is used to some 
extent for purposes of utility. But Catania is a city 
of lava : the walls and houses are built of lava, the 
streets are paved with lava, the mole is formed of 
lava, the furniture is made of lava, the monuments, 
statues and toys are of lava, and even the soil (which 



THE CITY OF LAVA. 549 

is most productive) is lava in a state of decompo- 
sition. 

One of our excursions was to the Greek theatres, 
over which modern edifices are now erected. Through 
excavations made some years ago, by Prince Biscari, 
a patriotic nobleman, these ancient structures were 
partially exposed. They are constructed of lava, and 
one of them is supposed to have contained 33,000 
spectators. 

On another occasion, we visited the remains of a 
Roman amphitheatre, larger than any structure of the 
kind now known to exist ; also, the ruins of an oclean, 
a hippodrome, a theatre, and two or three temples, of 
which there are many, consecrated to heathen idolatry. 

One of the curiosities of Catania is the Spring, re- 
stored to the inhabitants by Prince Biscari. It was 
buried by the stream of lava in 1669, which over- 
topped the ramparts, sixty feet high, and fell in a 
fiery cascade into the city. In time the molten matter 
cooled, and the solid lava, still curling over the walls, 
resembles a cataract. The Spring is reached by a 
flight of sixty-three steps, in the midst of solid lava. 

Having viewed the principal ruins, including ac~ 
queducts, baths and fountains, we visited a few of 
the modern edifices — the Cathedral, the Senate- 
chamber, the Government Pawn-bank, the Univer- 
sity, the Benedictine monastery, and the Museum 



550 



BENEDICTS WANDERINGS. 



founded by Prince Biscari, which contains many val- 
uable antiques in bronze and marble. 

In point of architecture, the Cathedral is said to 
be the most chaste and elegant church in Sicily. It 
is constructed of lava, except the columns in the 
facade, which are of granite. It is surmounted by 
a handsome cupola. The interior is decorated with 
frescoes, arabesques and basso-relievi. 

11 




MARRIAGE IN SICILY. 



During our visit to this edifice, an event of the 
highest interest occurred — a native marriage. The 
families represented were of wealth and high social 
position. The bridal pair were young and handsome, 



THE CITY OP LAVA. 551 

fashionably and elegantly attired, and attended by 
friends who crowned them with wreaths of leaves and 
flowers. The bishop, who was assisted by several 
priests, was gorgeously arrayed. Altogether, it was a 
most imposing ceremony. 

As we left the church, I observed tears coursing 
down the cheeks of the " colleen bawn." She quickly 
brushed them aside, and endeavored to suppress her 
emotion, but without success, for presently they burst 
forth anew, accompanied by a great sob, which, more 
even than the tears, evinced the depth of her distress. 
" ! " she exclaimed, in a low tone, lifting her melt- 
ing eyes to mine, " I am so miserable ! " 

" There is no reason why you should be," I replied. 
" You are loved by two young gentlemen, each of 
whom is anxiously seeking an opportunity to offer 
himself in marriage." 

" That," said she^ " is part of my misery. I dare 
not afford either of them an opportunity." 

" Nevertheless," said I, " it is something you ought 
to accord to both, in justice to them as well as your- 
self. One you love, the other you do not love : to 
the former, you should say, yes ; to the latter, no ; 
and the result will be a scene such as you have just 
witnessed." 



CHAPTER IV. 



FALLEN GREATNESS. 



g!|HE day after the marriage in Catania, Bach- 
e.or and I visited Syracuse. I had no opportu- 



,Aj5^ nity before our departure to add a word to 
what I had said to Nora the evening previous. To 
Musgrave I repeated the words which Bulwer puts 
into the mouth of Richlieu : 

"In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves 
For a bright manhood, there is no such word 
As— -fail." 

Of all the cities I have seen, none equals Syracuse 
in fallen greatness. In its palmiest days, according to 
modern writers, it contained a population of 250,000 
inhabitants. Some ancient writers say it comprised a 
population of 1,200,000, and maintained an army of 
100,000 foot and 10,000 horse, and a navy of 500 
armed vessels. It was twenty-two miles in circum- 
ference, enclosed by triple walls, and defended by three 
citadels. Now the population is less than 20,000, 
and the town is confined to the island Ortygia. The 



FALLEN GKEATNESS. 553 

destruction of this city was caused by the earthquake 
of 1693. 

Little now remains of ancient Syracuse, except a 
few unintelligible remains, in the orchards and vine- 
yards, widely separated. In one place are fragments 
of the walls, which are beautiful specimens of ma- 
sonry. Traces of eighteen gates have been discovered. 

The Amphitheatre was of Koman construction. It 
was partly hewn out of the solid rock, the rest being 
masonry. It had four entrances and an acqueduct. 
The diameter was 134 feet, and the podium over eight 
feet in height. 

The Theatre is reputed to be the most ancient 
of the Grecian structures of this character. It, too, 
was partly hewn out of the rock, and completed with 
masonry. It was in the shape of a horse shoe, 116 
feet in diameter, and held 80,000 spectators. Two 
corridors and several seats remain. 

But as the seats were damp — in Syracuse every 
thing is damp, and the climate unhealthy — Bachelor 
bought a pair of mats for our use, from a couple of 
pedlars near the ruins. Venders of this comfortable 
commodity are quite common in the city and suburbs 
of Syracuse. 

The Latomia3, or prisons, formed in the quarries 
from which the materials for the construction of the 
city were obtained, are very gloomy. That in which 



554 



benedict's wandekings. 



the tyrant Dionysius is supposed to have confined sus- 
pected persons, is of most singular construction. It 
was fifty-eight feet high, seventeen wide, and two 
hundred and ten long, and shaped like a letter S. It 

sloped upward, carrying all 
sounds by means of groves, 
to an aperature that com- 
municated with a private 
apartment, where the ty- 
rant spent his leisure hours 
in listening to the dis- 
course of his prisoners. 
Hence, its name — The Ear 
of Dionysius. 
mat pedlers. The Catacombs consist 

of a principal street, and smaller ones on each side, 
with oblong cavities as receptacles for the dead — all 
cut in the solid rock. 

The other vestiges of antiquity, are the Fountain 
of the Nymph Arethusa, now a mere tank, used for 
washing and bleeching ; the remains of Hexapylon, 
a strong fortress ; the Palace of Sixty Beds, con- 
structed by Agathocles ; and a tomb, supposed to be 
that of Archimedes. 

Near this tomb we were beset by all sorts of pedlers, 
those from whom we had purchased the mats having 
published their good fortune. A more persistent set 




FALLEN GREATNESS. 



555 



of venders I never encountered. The guide, to whom 
we had already given the mats, said he was unable to 
afford us protection ; but when I offered to buy him 
any thing he wanted if he would send them away, he 
dispersed them in a twinkling, except a basket 
merchant, from whose wares he selected a big basket, 
of which he became the owner at my expense. 

After that we had no 
similar difficulty. 

The modern town 
presents a few objects 
of interest, among 
which are a citadel of 
the Middle Ages, a bar- 
racks, a college, a royal 
academy, a museum of 
antiquities, and a pub- 
lic library. 

Two of the churches 
are particularly worthy of notice : St. Marcian, the 
first church in Europe devoted to Christian worship ; 
and the Cathedral, a Grecian Doric structure, which, 
having formerly been a temple consecrated to the 
worship of Minerva, has been continuously used for a 
place of devotion for 2,500 years. 

Having spent two days in this remnant of a great 
city, we returned to Catania, on our way to Messina, 

Q Q Q 




liASKIOT MERCHANT. 



556 benedict's wanderings. 

where we were to separate : Bachelor, who had ex- 
hausted the time which he had allowed himself for 
absence, to return home ; and I, in conformity with 
my original plan, to extend my wanderings as_far east 
as Cairo and Jerusalum. But — as I found it on this 
occasion — it is as well to keep in mind the proverb of 
Solomon : " Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou 
knowest not what a day may bring forth." 




2x<*°- — 



CHAPTER V. 



THE RETURN. 



^fff|F no man knows what one day may bring forth, 
aflil how can he be prepared for the changes that 
£)^| ma y occur during an absence uf four, and in a 
party such as we left behind us at Catania. Though 
I hoped to hear that Musgrave had offered Nora mar- 
riage, I was surprised and delighted to learn that he 
had surmounted every obstacle, and was master of the 
situation. The enemy had abandoned the field : the 
rejected lover escaping to his clients and cases in 
Londonderry; the "little, round, fat, oily man of 
God," retreating in the direction of Rome; and the 
" fine ould Irish gintleman" surrendering without 
conditions. 

" Thou knowest not what a day may bring forth," 
was verified on that occasion in another particular. 
A bundle of letters for me, forwarded from Naples to 
Messina, had been sent on to Catania, being 
marked " Urgent." Some of these letters were of lit- 
tle consequence ; but there were others, — one from 



558 benedict's wanderings. 

my wife, and several from my clients, — urging my 
immediate return as necessary for the preservation of 
my business. 

Here was a great disappointment, for I had antici- 
pated much pleasure from my contemplated wander- 
ings in Egypt and the Holy Land. Perhaps " busi- 
ness before pleasure," is a good adage under any cir- 
cumstances, though I should have put it aside on this 
occasion, if no injury could have resulted from my ab- 
sence save pecuniary loss to myself. But the inter- 
ests of others being involved, through the misman- 
agement of my agents, I had no alternative but to 
return with my friend Bachelor. 

The next morning, accompanied by O'Keeffe and 
the lovers, we returned to Messina, where a steamer 
was expected in the afternoon. Here we separated, 
they proceeding by way of Naples to Home, where the 
affianced pair were to be married, and Bachelor and 
I by way of Gibraltar to America. 

The vessel upon which we took passage, touched at 
Tunis, a sea-port of Africa, strongly fortified, about 
three miles from the ruins of ancient Carthage, which 
I greatly desired to behold ; but the time of our stay, 
much to my regret, was not even sufficient for a stroll 
through the city. Approaching from the sea, the ap- 
pearance of Tunis is picturesque, the houses being of 
uniform size and dazzling whiteness, and here and 



THE RETURN. 559 

there overtopped by the dome of a mosque, or the 
spire of a Greek or Roman church. But I was con- 
soled with the assurance that the pleasant impression 
made by a distant view, would not be confirmed by a 
nearer inspection, the streets being narrow, unpaved, 
tortuous, and extremely filthy, while the houses were 
chiefly one storied and of mean appearance. 

We also touched at Algiers, another city of Africa, 
but now the strongly fortified capital of a French 
province. Like Tunis, it is visible from a consider- 
able distance at sea, the houses being of dazzling 
whiteness ; but the aspect is more imposing, as they 
rise in ranges like the seats of an amphitheatre, ter- 
minating in an esplanade on which stands the citadel. 
But like Tunis in another respect, 

"Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." 
The streets, are narrow, uneven, crooked, and dirty, 
the houses of one story, some of brick and some of 
stone, and all externally whitewashed. The popula- 
tion is about half that of Tunis — 100,000. 

At Malaga, in Spain, we remained in harbor from 
early in the afternoon until the following morning. 
Viewed from the sea, this is also a beautiful city, 
built in the form of an amphitheatre, at the base of a 
mountain, and is commanded by an old Moorish cas- 
tle, situated on an elevated rock. Really, however, it 
is not a place of much beauty, the streets being nar- 



THE RETURN. 561 

row, ill-paved, and dirty, and the houses built around 
courts. The public edifices are not deserving of par- 
ticular mention, except the Cathedral, which is noted 
for its spire, 302 feet in height. Some of the best 
houses are situated on the promenade, which, in the 
evenings, is much frequented by the citizens, who are 
ostentatious in their attire, and exceedingly fond of 
display and admiration. 

The next day we arrived in Gibraltar, at the en- 
trance of the Mediterranean, an English town and 
fortification. The town contains about 20,000 inhab- 
itants, and occupies a low level strip of land between 
the rock and the sea. The fortress is called the key 
of the Mediterranean. Seen from the sea, the rock 
presents a most formidable appearance. It projects 
into the sea about three miles, is nearly three fourths 
of a mile wide, and 1400* feet high. It is connected 
with the Continent by a low sandy isthmus, a mile 
and a half long, and three quarters of a mile wide, 
having on one side the Bay of Gibraltar, and on the 
other the Mediterranean. The north face is almost 
perpendicular, and the east and south are full of prec- 
ipices. The west side, on which the town is built, is 
less rugged, but more strongly fortified. It is thought 
to be impregnable. 

In this rock, variously situated, are numerous 
caves, some of which are beautifully picturesque, 



■■IB 




'111 



ri'l'lii', 1 '"'* 



ill! I ' ' ' [(I!' ''ill '■', !'» 

"iiiiii 

i i 

llllBlllMlffillH 



THE RETURN. 563 

but so difficult of access, that few have the courage 
to visit them. The most remarkable of these caves 
is St. Michael, the entrance to which is said to be 
1,000 feet above the level of the sea. 

A noticeable feature of this stronghold, are the 
fortified passages, leading from one part of the gar- 
rison to another, without being exposed to the fire of 
the enemy. The passages are cut through the solid 
rock, and some of them are three miles in length, and 
wide enough for carriages. Along these passages, at 
the distance of twelve yards apart, are port-holes 
bearing upon the land and bay. On the top of the 
rock are barracks, towers and fortresses. The num- 
ber of guns now mounted is nearly a thousand. 

During our stay in Gibraltar — three days — we be- 
came acquainted with most of the officers of the gar- 
rison, and many of the more prominent citizens of 
the town. Some of the officers — the younger ones, 
who were still fond of adventure — showed us a great 
deal of attention. The acquaintanceship was a mu- 
tual pleasure ; they were glad of any thing to diver- 
sify the monotony of life in garrison, and we were 
delighted to be again among people who spoke our 
own language. Two days were spent in and about 
the fortress, and in the town, and in sailing across the 
bay froni Europa Point to Point St. Garcia, the capes 
by which it is formed. On the third, we made a trip 



THE ftETUKN. 565 

to Tangier, in Morocco. Three officers, Bachelor and 
myself composed the party on this excursion ; and, 
to use the fashionable phrase of young ladies who de- 
light in evening parties, we had a good time. 

Tangier is a seaport town, walled and otherwise 
fortified, standing on a height at the entrance of the 
Strait of Gibraltar. Like many other seaports of the 
Mediterranean, it is semi-circular inform, correspond- 
ing to the spacious bay near which it is situated* 
Approached from the sea, it presents a very striking- 
appearance ; but, in reality, is a very wretched place, 
having but one decent street, and no respectable 
dwellings except a few occupied by European consuls 
and wealthy merchants, the other streets being nar- 
row, dirty lanes, and the houses little better than 
hovels. The principal buildings are the castle, which 
is in a state of advanced dilapidation, and the places 
devoted to religious worship — a Roman Catholic 
church, several synagogues, and a number of mosques, 
one of which is a handsome edifice. The trade is 
small — chiefly confined to Gibraltar ; the population 
about 10,000 inhabitants. 

Our return voyage was marked by no unusual inci- 
dent. A wealthy gentleman from the coal regions of 
Pennsylvania, who with his wife and daughter were 
returning from an extended tour in Europe, took pas- 
sage with us at Gibraltar. The daughter was young 



566 



BENEDICT S WANDERINGS. 



and beautiful, graceful and accomplished, and lovea- 
ble ; and Bachelor, true to his instincts, made her the 
object of his special attentions. There were not many- 
passengers on the vessel, and the opportunities for 
courtship were favorable. The first few days the 
young lady was coy, but time gradually wore away 
the reserve, and — well, suffice to say that, as we as- 
cended the Bay of New York, the companion of my 
wanderings whispered in my ear : 

" When I said I would die a bachelor, 
I did not think I should live till I were 
Married." 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS f 



020 677 607 9 



